The Season
In a summer when the sun is so hot that your old car's air conditioner is useless for the first several minutes that it's on so you have to roll down the windows, would you like to have sex in the swimming pool?
The whole poem is one long sentence that builds toward a single question. It starts with an ordinary, slightly annoying detail: the heat is so bad that the air conditioner in an old car does nothing for the first few minutes, so you have to roll the windows down.
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