rites of spring

i have sprung a leak and now i am leaking spring. filled up with pheromones, cheap wine and free will. it is her song that ricochets off the walls and conducts electricity like an orchestra on acid. the audience is on fire and the world’s a stage. my mind reaches to johannesburg and battery park. she is spread across the map and my mind, places i can’t see or spell. i am dyslexic and in love. i feel my way along backroads and interstates and hidden places that don’t show, retracing my steps in time to the beat of her heart. as i ride i gaze up and against the night sky, i find new constellations. they form the shape of her neck and her back and her words. there is fire in the water that i drink and it only leaves me dry. but i toast to spring and skin and a general lack of clothes.

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