It was all new. I gave myself to whim and looked down the steps, down the steepest hill, and held my pillow tight, crossed arms, crossed heart. A haze of midges hangs in the air before the keen, westfalia-bound faces; night is nearing and they gather just over the golden silhouette of exhaust. Through the flaxen fumes I meet resplendent, radiating Marisha (she has shadows in her eyes) and her lover (he has ice). We are all in the bus, shining hair, mustard limb... the midges follow our palpitations.
Our arrival brings us neon bracelets and small cups. We drink from these cups, drink amber liquid in the lilting, April light. Amidst the cacophony we ripple, hunting cattails, a game of hide and seek. A wan breeze, the clouds turn to ash, we race through the buttery, black air to our resting places. A lull, one final hush; we make peace with our bodies.
The sun rises, our honeyed mother, and steams us from sleep. Enter the day! Quickly ripened, we spin from the earth, our toes just skimming the dust; we are lost among grassy ribs, the curvature of a spine, some faint structure. A tilt of the head, a twist of the lips, our enemies are our friends, we smile and wheel as petals fall from a tumultuous, bright sky. This is the tupelo love and no one is left out.
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