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summer days in static loops, hour hands caught in deja vu like a needle hopping back to an earlier groove. an echo that births an echo that births an echo that births. the green swells. light dapples. the nights of longer days are a blink, painted in and rubbed out. and i sweat through the sheets, one palm face down on your side of the bed where it feels like the surface of a flat stone ready for skimming. the noise of summer sits collecting heat around my head, thick and dopey, like a dog lolloping in circles with more jowls than brains. there's no space to breathe. everything's so close. the outside blast of treacle summer rushes in around me when i open the back door and i have no choice but to wade through. the evening stretches out with no relief, fresh mosquito bites, the orange light that refuses to dip behind the horizon like a child that won't go to sleep. we used to wish these days would never end. now the ugly bright of summer days catch & click and i find myself daydreaming of the arrival of a new season.