In Which I Share Some Folk Wisdom That Works

The best of all protection from the sun
And its most harmful ultraviolet rays,
Is long-sleeved shirts, high collars... that's no fun,
However, if, like most, you have a craze
To show off your well-turned and pasty limbs.
A miracle goop's on the market, though:
They call it sunscreen, which stuff at least dims
The angry red and blistering, you know.
Bar those, once burnt, one remedy remains,
On hand in ev'ry kitchen (one need not
Grow fancy plants or go to special pains
To buy some aloe vera gel); you've got
To splash some vinegar upon your burns.
The smell's not great; but oh, the sweet returns!

In Which I Try Not To Fry

So cloudless, clear, with nothing but contrails
To blemish all that blue -- it's fine, but fierce.
A searing sun at altitude ne'er fails
To pin me to the pavement. How the pierce
Of rays so pitiless doth wound; I wince
To think of it, well knowing that the thick
And sticky layer of sunscreen I've long since
Applied will not avail me much. I kick
And pedal powerfully for cover. Can
I make it much more quickly to the shade
Than I would were it raining? I don't tan
But burn, quite badly; it does not soon fade,
The pain or redness. Pale and weak am I,
Who scuttles, scared, beneath the scorching sky.