The snowbirds are roasting on the golfcourses
Featherless turkeys in the Sonoran sun
As cactus bloom from the precipitation
Of winter that wasn’t snow
With temperatures not 20 below.
The year rounders are waiting impatiently
Put upon hosts of unwelcome guests to
Pack their slow ass American gas guzzlers
And head back to Michigan
Wisconsin Minnesota Montana
And get the hell off our roads
And out of our spots in the parking lots
And our seats in the restaurants.
Bye-bye. See you never.
Sigh. Make that October