That Summer (24 in SF)
I want to memorize it all—
pastel palettes, passing homes,
green splitting asphalt,
that downhill rush—
palms wide, free-falling,
thoughts squirming, slipping,
nights spilled into making,
a fevered sinusoid:
despairing, dazzled—
to be alive.
Assembled from texts to self, 06.17.24.