Damn I Forgot to Take the Trash Out

Cicadas sizzled the summer heat
while we stayed inside
catching kisses blown by the AC
in a log cabin overlooking a lake

The air smelled of freshly squeezed cubes
stacked like Himalayas from an ice
machine on the fourth floor of Luxor
littered with ads of women
selling sex at wholesale

Panoramic window, as if hung from the wall,
displayed portraits of cedars burning
green like Emerald City or bucketful
of toy soldiers and the sky
spackled with cotton clouds

spilling over like garbage on Thursday mornings.

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