I held the liquid sun in my hands, and it pained me knowing I couldn’t photograph it. But then a group migrated real close dressed in white, and I cried as the man raised his hand saying hallelujah. I swam into it setting, the water
becoming warmer the more I waited-
it’s ice cold for the impatient, and the world around me was green with chunks of slimy brown. The unknown is never beautiful in the good ole fashioned way, and I wouldn’t have seen this or anyone else if I lived here everyday of my life, a sign on a highway for purchase. There’s brushstrokes and the gentle motion of millions of years of waiting, and I sing the body electric as I think about the next Instagram post, and it kills me as I do it anyways, again and again peached oranges become part of everything with the pineapple Fanta and Hi-chews. And the sky turns orange between shades of grey.