2457. Itch and Itch and Itch and Itch
This is “Itch and Itch and Itch and Itch.” It’s up to all of us to ball.
The sunset is tongued across the horizon.
There is a single, flying insect—unseeable—that will create a perfect red moon on your thigh.
We itch and itch for days for a sight of beauty.
And I dreamt I kissed every one of your footprints in the sand until they brought me home—many miles away.











