Hey, summer puppy
trotting into the sprinkler spray, frightening sweetly when you get wet—meet the whole god-damning summer squall of me. I'll drip the paisley down your sides, swell and simulacra you into a billboard fit to advertise my most commercial cravings. You can't think yourself into un -assuming. I see you for what you are : a fraud who needs feeding from a trough bigger than this terminal highway. Look, puppy, 90-Degree-Jawline plucks women from the street as he preens the brittlest leaves from his garden bed. You are not invisible if inaccessible . No eyes make us so let's truce— let's put our bodies to pray in the push of a bawdy barroom throng. Let's sin for closeness more like combustion: a flip-the-fuck-out with a shockwave that brings the best benders to their knees before easing. Puppy, you are a a luminous prick of longing looming over open water, a tantalizing never-near what I see when I look down. I admit it : you are my ache for chaos consistent, ...