A literal soda fountain bubbles over greens and blues
that aren’t replaceable by the rain. She is covered
by water
barely awake (again, literal)
and subtracting from my memories of lesser flesh
almost in the instant I see her.
My head, and brains are a sucking house hororshow
replacing tropix hot smells
with frozen dirt and scuffed
sorrowful shoes I wore in the sixth grade.
She is a hard point in my mind, though
keeping me. Rotating rainbows, soft-to-the-touch
and arched backed. Wet, fluorescent,
running timed brakebeats under the sun of don’t remember.
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