Days when the days that lay ahead promised affairs
With ultraviolet hues and calm seas and flip-flop pairs
Days when the optimist possibilities of May betided
And beacons of sun-rays gleefully glided
Days when rains promised rainbows afterwards
Then the breeze and the dahlias played hypnotic chords
Days when lips above bikinis and pink roses pouted alike
And shimmered bodies in shimmering water were easy strikes
Those days of the month called June.
But what days are these? They vouch that they belong to June!
They give me pains with gray azure that rains.
Afternoon affairs that have forgotten beaches-
and are confined to beds,
Peacoats cover fake tans and real bruises-
and stockings veil legs that spread
Shrunken lips can’t touch popsicles.
So cappuccinos and mochas are in rage,
Drunken souls have given up on the birds and the bees
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