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Click hereI wish tonight was last night
the one with all the heat
the spreading
do alarm clocks change
reality?
like a sudden change
in waking?
when fire used to feel good
when ice was the enemy
when gray was a color
not a way of life
someone reading this
knows the way of tent
stake
poles
-ignore this-
I prefer briquettes
over food scorched
by propane
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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Reading this in the deepest dead of Winter brings a longing for the heat of Summer.