I'm in Vegas tonight. Feel like Elvis. It's 116 degrees outside and I went for a walk and melted like a grilled cheese sandwich. People's faces are warped and their words are slurred and all the birds are dead. Even the lizards are seeking shade. My fingers are too tired to get into trouble. Cool water calls my name. The world is a hot sauna today and Las Vegas sidewalks are are only used for frying eggs. Elvis impersonators are still asleep in darkened hotel rooms where air conditioners work overtime and drip condensation into the cracked asphalt in the alleys behind the motels where seedy drug deals are made. The ghost of Frank Sinatra watches over me while I tune my guitar and get ready for the evening's songfest. Yeah- it's ducking hot outside but I'm cool with that. It's a dry heat. Yeah, that's the ticket! It's a dry heat and it is making me dry heave.