hazy warm air,
a bee’s sense of lasisse fair
i run my fingers through my growing
golden hair
marveling that i feel young again
never mind the glimpse of my actual reflection
my true self possesses some
certain something that never really leaves
that j nais c’set qua
and leftover aplomb
that suspends my true nature
in a state of honey
golden, glowy
a little bit showy
sexy and sweet
but be careful…
do not add heat
i’ve no fear of drowning in it,
rather
what I fear
is that in some
strange suspended state
my mind will harden like amber
around an illusion
of fate
letters to the world 