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WHY I CAN'T WRITE POEMS IN THE SUMMER

Sunshine depresses me
Progressively

As summer days drag on
Like dragon breath

Or a bad cigarette
Dead set

On tasting hot and dry.
That's why

I like bad weather best,
I guess.

Seasonal affect in reverse
Is worse

Than the other way around.
I've found

Writing poems in the summer
To be a bummer.

I can't wait for fall or spring.
Anything

With dying and rebirth.
This dearth

Will be the death of me
And my poetry.

      — John G. Gregory, Jr.