Umpteenth Poem about the Sun
Spreading tightness.
Shimmering visible heat
wisps evaporate and return.
Ticking sweat collects
in pools for gnats.
I swat, rest, swat, rest,
but it all keeps coming.
I feel something terrible
blooming, like sunburn,
waiting to leave a mark.
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Dang, Gina! You and Bernie killed it today!
I just returned last week from 10 days on Jamaica’s beaches. Needless to say my pale body suffered…