It's Eddie's birthday, and I've got a stomach ache, so we came home early. Too bad, because now my friends are bowling without me! I must be starved for socialization, I actually put on makeup before leaving the house tonight, and I believe it was my excitement that brought on the indigestion. That, or the pierogi.
The mall is hopping. Brown clothes are everywhere and little kids in skorts and flip-flops are pushing their own strollers, drunk with the excitement of wearing socks again.
I'm becoming a person who rises early and sips coffee while reading the news. Then I dress in something I've selected for its claim of "mobility," and head to the gym for yoga or to work out. Then I have a nutritious lunch, work on my latest crafty project, or read. Vomit at will. I swear, something fascinating will come soon. These must be the lazy days of Summer of which I've heard tell.
I want to curl up under your chin
and let the humidity of your livelihood
condense on my forehead
trickle over my temples
and drip into my mouth.
Oh, only you, my own sun,
wavering on that high note
that vibrates near my second molar
and which you break with a flourish.
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