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poetry

Sticky

Take a step back,

a long, sticky summer on hold,

not much of a summer at all,

like a hot day

when it’s cloudy and 90% humidity

you feel cheated.

It’s the kind of sticky that

clings to your skin after a shower

back to square one

hit the reset button

like waiting for rain on the forecast,

that keeps getting pushed back,

ruining plans

but not clearing the sticky.