A year without summer

    They cut up the world, cherishing the
    paper-doll sentiment of folding and
    snipping time zones, and hemispheres, and tropics.

    But the earth evades a sliced,
    diced, and quartered fate. For, we can calculate 24
    hours on an abacus of a world, but we can never conquer it.

    Zigzagging latitude and longitude, the boy
    had a year without summer: here until June,
    there and back again for another winter, perhaps.

    A life of three seasons, a lopsided
    reality despite the play-doh attempt to make
    the earth ours.


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