Mind Implosion

104 (airport)/106 (home)/116 THI degrees. I melt. Sydney, my cockatiel, sits on an ice cube, lost memories of an egg, and sighs, mouth agape. Hollow-leg syndrome attacks--I'm eating everything (half gallon of Extreme Moose Tracks gone) and can't get full. I write on. A deer is straddling my bird bath, belly filling it. Tiny lizards drag race across my deck. Their overheated bodies crash into my weeping Weeping Willow bush. Hummingbirds hover at feeders, panting like mosquitoes outside a blood bank in anticipation. A goldfish (IQ=3) jumps out of pond onto rock, sizzles on impact. Raccoon in oak tree ignores it. Sleeps. Three tomatoes in garden explode. Sauceacide? Hawk screams on rooftop. Sydney's gone. I find bones in kitchen. Chicken? My air is out. It's now 105. Sydney emerges from closet, toes tapping hardwood floor. Looks up and asks, "Whatcha doing?"