Sweat drops into the gears of the machine
clogs and gums up the timing.
Locust clouds on the horizon,
Dim the light of the heart of the summer.
Sky, a blank space peppered with smog-fine point accents of haze.
Humidity cloying-
Chafing against a skin refusing to dry.
A rigid attachment to feeling
Good.
Those Wild-Wild-Wildwood days.
The stable has burst open.
Each horse on display
Riding proudly out into
The sweltering world.
Replete with those 4 riders
Dressed in heavy, body-consuming cloaks
to stick a thumb in the eyes of those prepared for the weather.
Behind them, a parade forms;
Even an ending deserves a celebration.
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