This spring
the daylight has become a series of chasers.
Hot laughter bubbling up
through the fizz of sunshine.
I am refreshed.
Repeatedly refreshed.
As my skin gathers up its bright red hangover
the sun is drowning like a grapefruit
& the vodka is coming,
certain as the moon
the robust bottles,
they are coming.
The wine will turn your skin-based sunshine
into freckles & brown flaking skin.
Tonight our sheets will be a blizzard of skin
that springtime is shuffling off.
Burns cook off in the night,
like the lilac vodka you soaked out french toast in.
The calendar is widening her eyes.
The horizon has got infinity on its breath.
We duck that florid purpling afterglow
& begin fucking in the blossomed yawn of a cherry tree.
I find you in desperate need of muddling.
You cracked so beautifully
when I poured my intoxicated body over you.
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