Cooking Rice

Its not enough to be alive
You must disappoint yourself
a few times so
you can feel what thats like
And do other things
to your psyche
to feel those different feels

So then you grow
like a weed through winds
and rocks and those
hot Toronto summers
where the air
gets so steamy
you could cook rice
in your palm
but when you try
The sky bursts open
In dramatic purple
fashion
And god pisses very hard on
your evening.

The cool 7pm air
Is refreshing as it
tries to dry
the streets but before it can
the lights come on and
Summer is perfect like wine

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