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On Rising Too Quickly
The sensation is much like bubbles
pushed through a tiny hoop.
I stand still,
a plastic portal pressed to Summer's lips,
and from my head,
dizzy wet ideas,
glint after glint, surge!
Too quickly, they splatter.
The madness of opalescent dreams
swishing up and out of my bottled self.
-Betina Hershey, 9/2000