Saturday, April 30, 2005

A bee ... 

They buzzed about me ... I must have been four?

The bee tree was full of yellow flowers.

One stung me. On my thumb.

The bees buzzed louder. I watched them.

The bee tree swayed in the summer breeze.

Late. Warm. Golden. Young.

Someone called from inside the house.

I don't know, too long ago.

I sat on a bench with a toothbrush, aged three, chirping radio in the background.

is it time for a nap yet? i think so

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