draw the juice out of
my strawberry skin. The thirsty hordes
of jabbing ****** drive their
sticks deep in. ******* my blood

through their straw, leaving welts
the size of my chest of drawers. The red
swollen mounds are itching me, making
me crazy. Building hilltops on

my thighs, back and arms. I swat the angry
bombers, and still the storm troopers swarm
into my face. Up my nose they make
a nest out of the hairs and lay their

eggs!  They parade in the rain. Their floats are
sticks and logs, puddles, and bogs. The disease carrying
hogs have a figure slender as a splinter! I’ll have to wait
till winter for relief, as they only like the heat.