My cat over the garage, my laptop just that. And my washing's out, memory foam's aired, and I want to join my cat so bad. And my other cat found a bee hive and won't let it be but it's not funny to them. It's been so hot though it's early May. Smoking baby blue, delicate veins of green, and purple hangs down from above. The motion of bees, spasmodic wooden slaps, and birds calling one and other out. Acrid, day-old, oil smoke, in my hair or t-shirt, rum stuck up my nose, and alone I was king where my everything spun as one, and I want it but I lost it when you came back. But I love you.
“If you’re not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are being oppressed, and loving the people who are doing the oppressing.”