she bounced. up and down as she walked like the years she had
were lighterweight than everyone else’s. and she squinted in the bright light because her eyes were blue
but she kept them open as wide as she could to see all the flowers.
she was allergic to flowers. strangers on the corner told her “bless you”
when she sneezed. she was summer, in a way. her wild love for places
pulling ******* her wrist, moving her from bridge to bridge
sun browning her shoulders just so. and her wild love for people
pulling ******* her baby heartstrings, moving her from bridge to bridge
sun browning her shoulders just so. and her wild love for wild love
pulling ******* her belt loops, moving her from bridge to bridge
sun browning her shoulders just so.
and warm air all against her neck
and alive, always, but especially then.