huge fire bro

Fire burns fat in the early spring
those logs deposited from winter floods
and no one down there to enjoy them
we'll use them up
all at once
and later in August we'll burn one Indian style
small and without much heat
to crowd around naked and wet from the swim at night
drying off and shivering embarrassededly
this is both a limerick and some bong iambic pentameter
and I've made up a word.

Wow, I made a poem!

There's like an Acura radio ad out right now pondering why Autumn is so much more prone to nostalgia than spring, and it's because every spring is filled with hope, and every autumn regret. Every Spring, anything is possible, and every autumn you just wish you could be a kid again.

Just kidding.

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