Summer as a Little Girl

May 11, 2012
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In the summer, the black and yellow
master flower bloomer comes and
nicks my skin like a razor.
The tiny bee cuts through the air
and sounds like my thoughts
buzzing through my mind.
Tastes like the chalk
I drew with as a kid,
pressing hard on pavement,
grinding color on cement,
when I finally stomp on
black and yellow.

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