please speed
up your layover. Is there
more time
than there used to be before—
or is it
only passing slower?
Rooftop of June
and height of afternoon as
languid and narcotic
clouds drift by like belly-up fish
and baked bees labor
in the clover drunk on nectar's straight
concentrate of summer.
Red rover red rover, I already
have a hangover, so
let’s just hurry up and get this
apotheosis over.
