Oh summer if you would only come
with your big baskets of flowers,
dropping by like an old friend
just passing through the neighborhood.
If you came to my door disguised
as a thirsty biblical angel,
I’d buy all your hairbrushes and magazines.
I’d be more hospitable
than any ancient king.
I’d personally carry your luggage in!
Your monsoons! Your squadrons of bugs!
Your plums and lovely melons!
Let the rose let out its long long sigh.
And desire return to the hapless rabbit.
This request is also in my own behalf.
Inside my head it is always snowing,
even when I sleep. When I wake up,
and still you have not arrived,
I curl back into my blizzard of linens.
Not like winter’s buckets of whitewash.
Please wallpaper my bedroom
with leafy vegetables and farms.
If you knocked right now,
I would not interfere.
Start near the window.
Start right here.
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