Toward summer or its dependence
On demarcations in the sandy vial
Some tree spelling astronaut onto a
Planet’s arm, it stopped making sense.
I am not an apothecary or a wave
Or a dog by the 15th hole, I am not
A light sparking a whole country’s demise.
I will never be a towel holding someone’s
Sunscreen while they wash it off in foreign
Seas. My hair goes up and down, it’s true
As it is I am not a bag of tea nor will I ever
Be exceptionally happy. Let the director
Know I was distressed by the construction
Noise, that I had no known allergies that
My parents convinced me I was wanted
And why wouldn’t you believe them.
If the earth when it opened dragged away
Our sense of faith, doubt was an
Invention I preferred to ignore in the
Manner of solicitations by mail.
Real Complex Key Shifts
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