thank you notes app for giving me automatic line breaks.
alternative title: ‘weird autumn’
in my dreams it’s summer
and the air is bone dry, no moisture, so
sterile that taking too deep a breath
stings. the mattress in the empty
swimming pool is sprouting weeds. the
clouds turn the sky night-dark and the
trees vibrate, stretching their limbs out in
anticipation. it’s going to be a proper
summer storm, the kind that cleaves the
world cleanly through. i walk through the
lot and up the hill, up the hill, up the hill,
where the grass grows waist-deep and it
feels like swimming. lightning cracks
through the air and snaps shadows into
the edges of the old power plant.