Lemons

I

dreamed triplets of chemtrails

like claw tracks of fingernails

criss-crossed to X out the sky.

Tomatoes rotted, small beetles

chewed leaves relentlessly, my

cat died.

Endless summer knows how

to be hell and even the good waves

bring putrid fish and sharp hooks

and I wonder, where

is a clean breath

still to be had?

Took a walk, looking

for the wild side and I hate

to tell you even the hawks

are starving.

Lemonade. 

No sugar.