A Moment Of Ill Thought

Terry stands on the balcony, 

Literally on the edge

Of a decision concerning before

And after, 

But not much intent on now. 

He lifts his shirt to swat away heat and mosquitos, 

They both cling around the joints, 


His slick skin is dry beneath a salty sea, 

Sweat inducement, 

And his hand passes across his brow in double time, 


The despair of having temperate blood

In a tropical climate. 


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