Friday, July 17, 2015

Summer Blockbuster

Summer didn’t differ that much from spring,

Not the first day. The sprinklers and the dogs,
The blossoms where the bees crawled, and the night
Which wasn’t quite the day because I saw
Less of myself, which didn’t bother me.

Then it grew hot. And windy just the same.
The tree of knowledge only bore dried fruit;
The columbine flourished, and the chiles made
Mad bombers of the wasps. A chickadee
Drank all the water in the collie’s bowl
And fluttered like a wiffleball. I mailed
My manuscript To Whom It May Concern,
No one yet having been; but this had heat,
A love triangle, scalene, sweat and skin.

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