hit of freedom

we are just around the corner,

turning on the edge of the finale,

the door at the dead end says “OPEN”

since this is weather for flicking your sunglasses down on your nose

and letting the leaves blow out of hand

(they’ve been frozen all winter, let them play)

everyone is mesmerized, lying flat, stroking the grass with flat palms

wriggling fingers fearlessly into the cool soil. at last we have colour.

cut off your spare cloth, let your skin out

so the rays can heal us all of our journey inside

take a magical hit off the sunlight pipe,

it will change your world.

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