Gold Ice Cream
Why is the wind So Cold? Summer's first
month is Days Away.
That's it! I say, at the Brink of Letting Misery
Prevail.
I am going to Imagine myself a Holiday!
Everything I know of palm trees and warm sand is being
packed into it. My suitcase is the one leaking ultraviolet, trailing leopard
printed straps. The food is amazing: all spice and lime zing, the drinks bubble
fresh. The sun is blurred in the heat hazy sky. I think it might have melted.
It has melted. It is made of gold ice cream, it's what the Gods eat. In the
evening, as the flavour of the sky turns to watermelon red, we dance, coffee
brews on a beach fire, misery is nothing but a snickering twig.
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