Dry July
Give me the ocean in a tea cup, filled to the brim with its salty, sun-soaked clarity.
I’d like to gulp it down and ask for another, another, and another, drinking it rapidly becoming intoxicated and giddy.
I can’t ever get enough of it, no matter how much I lay in it, sit by it, and watch it. I wish it would permeate my skin, flow inside, where I could store it for those winters where there is no sunshine. Where my insides are frozen then defrosted then frozen over again. Sunshine from the inside.
I’d like to gulp it down and ask for another, another, and another, drinking it rapidly becoming intoxicated and giddy.
I can’t ever get enough of it, no matter how much I lay in it, sit by it, and watch it. I wish it would permeate my skin, flow inside, where I could store it for those winters where there is no sunshine. Where my insides are frozen then defrosted then frozen over again. Sunshine from the inside.