The mountains around town are overrun
they’re swelling with foliage
like two greasy testicles
because the heat won’t let up

cicadas scream for each other
forever, makes you feel
you are living in static

in the trees finally opening up
their gizzum crowding the air
It’s like we’ve all made the mistake of trying to touch each other at the same time

and it’s gross
and that’s why I found you in the woods
rubbing the side of a tree with the small of your back
as if you were in love
with the territory

the bamboo is growing faster than the hair on an Italian man’s back
wearing a wife beater
and just fucking sweating on the street
over the black spots of bubblegum

word is every piece of bamboo blossoms all over the world
at the exact same time
and I think I know why

this time of year is best to just avoid
sit inside as the wave rolls over
and the earth finishes rubbing one out

but god it’s good to be alive, and it’s just heat
that can make you forget the precision of pain

walking back from dinner by the beach in your shorts
like a lung
inside of a lung

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