For his ice cream
And I wonder
If it’s the same one from yesterday.
The cicadas are back, too,
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And for some reason
That bugs me.
A spider spins a web
On the trellis of the Ashland stop
Of the real rumbler
Which rattles above ground.
The butterflies
Get pushed around
The sky
By vape smoke.
A ladybug lands
on my shoulder
Laughing at my luck
lately.