SUMMER RUSH
You run with the golden egg with three yolks and no white into outstretched arms only you can see. When you hit the tree you feel nothing at all.
The vein that was so close to bursting you never knew. It’s going to pop one day, and you’ll have nothing left but anger.
As stiff as ice. The spikes hit blood but there is only blue left.
White spots on the blue so that the stem and red and white pulling out, and cutting so well that, in not hearing it, it is more satisfying and most of the time yellow-blue feeling.
Clap, Clap, lip on lip, teeth on your own teeth. Open wide, she said, and say: ah!
There’s a lump in my red throat. Sandpaper under tongues and lumps that stay until you find a way to numb them.
Swaddle me motherfucker:
yessssss
I will follow you to the end of everything, but there are some places I will not go. This is one of them.
Round in the glare, legs in the air, the way that the ball spins us too much to see and I’m afraid. Charlie is smiling and bouncing up and down: ‘YES,’ because he is so PASSIONATE about how the ball spins in the particular light. But he is also afraid.
Sam is watching cartoons and his mother comes down and says, ‘Come have your burger. It’s getting cold, I’m going to eat it.’ He runs into the kitchen and sits at the table and looks at it, scowls, eats it, and says: ‘THANK YOU.’
‘Your beautiful face! Your beautiful face!’ they scream at the ball and my face. The blue trunk I tripped over lies forgotten, unopened.
He felt the shift in the wind before it broke around him. The sound of twigs underfoot in a forest, but he knows he is alone on the carpark roof. The concrete splits.
Sam’s mind is blank and he goes to say something and stops. Then he keeps it blank and lets himself be and looks ahead at the rare thing and feeling rare also, a rare feeling. Do not cherish it though. It’s very strong, but it’ll blush and bold.
In the stars and in eyes, everything about it melancholy and big smiles. Everyone wants to see it, one day, and tell it: ‘Take me with you!’
Space, ho lding onto my beer I can see space to sit. But I’m still afraid all around.
The table, made of fake and shiny among the others like it, differing made on them and the way that ti ments of the people using it Marked deeply at its head fore way it’s made better in use and th
y wood sits in the room g only in age and the marks it is used and the senti-
ever, it is worth it for the he soon-ness of its end.
Smiling as the jelly lands, and laughing and laughing as you lick it off your t-shirt. Today is a good day.
It’s simple, but I like it!
Charlie the boy is running t waist-height. It is high summ close and close to him. But i points a thumbs up.
through the pink grass at mer, the sun is high and it is still close and he