If the color from today's flowers weeped with sound, this quiet evening on the avenue would crash like some big bang gig. The colors condensed the winter over, distilled and drenched and dumped into cavernous, smelly whiskey barrels swarming with bees. A yellow jacket searches for a place to pitch her tent, for the long hot busy summer ahead. The spring rain fills every bowl, brews and broods. The yellow jacket screws her mud to a camellia branch. The water slows to vinyl, the beach wood logs tattooed. Waves like empty wine bottles fall breaking into the fitful trash truck.
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