I.

Thunder-soaked skies, last night. Words make seasonal change sound like an instance: winter / spring.

I wonder about the in-between. We seem to last forever in the bleed thru: thawed / unthawed.

II.

After rain, shaken trees. I experience “Texas allergies”.

III.

Here in Austin girls take pictures off the highway. In the spring / in bluebonnets / in cowboy boots. I worry about them. I read poison ivy affects you more, the more you are around it.

IV.

Two weeks now, laid dormant. Locals say it’s the cedar. I act like I’m not one. A local, that is.

A cedar too, I suppose. Unlike trees, I want to move and keep moving.

V.

Symptoms persist, maybe worsen. You tell me I should see a doctor. My parents raised me tough and / or unable to ask for help. I’m not sure which is worse.

VI.

A cowboy fellow calls me ma’am.

VII.

I think the flowers are beautiful despite them trying to kill me. We have no perspective for each other’s tolerance.