Your June

Your June
Picture the year as a clock and it’s straight up 6.
The world spreads before you like ketchup. Don’t shade your
eyes, you miss a minute. You are thirsty—bee pollen is
everywhere, so many flowers, so many flowering chances. No
vagueness, just brilliance, each color, every contour—
Awake!
Anew!
Alive!

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