in the summertime
the muscles in my
drapes ripple
like lions of the
serengeti
in whose eyes
i would drown
if i could look just
once
like my pale orange
swath of cloth
billowing above my
knees
like panthers
springing into
trees
like the ocean as
the barometer falls
...like you coming home.
*yes, the title is a play on words


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