ascending june.

I no longer wish to be your girl

There, I said it

So frisk-it as you may with her

& lie smartly under the stars like such a man

I am sure you will tell her those things

That you always said were just for me

& she will believe it all

Why wouldn’t she, you’re such a

Good-good boy.

Go on now.

Fish for things in rhythmic lakes

You always were fond of the sound

You do look sweeter neath the sun

When you turn your head to view something

You squint and smirk and say such marvelous twaddle

Oh! I love it all

Or, perhaps I did.

But now, I really, no longer do.

Flowers, pennies, stars, how are these plagues for the heart?