The chill rain covers my face like a cold sweat
As I struggle to make my way through the park
Named after the man who made the city of my birth,
Limbs just alive with buds ready to burst
Sagging overhead, the tip of each dripping
Bits of clear liquid and reflect some deep
Drip going on inside of me
This is always the best and worst of the year
For me, a time when change intrudes
And forces itself on me, consuming me
Making me ache inside and out,
Pressing itself against me, chest to chest
So that I breathe in what it breathes out
And so that we linger in a perpetual dance
Neither of us can escape, nor want to,
Regardless of how we penetrate each other,
My breath steaming by the time I reach
The gap at the other end, and my hips
Aching from the effort, leaving me
As if I have been stung by bees
That have yet not emerged for the season
With the stinger still deep inside
Of me – oozing.
