a love hate relationship with the heat

the dog days are not over,
the heat breaths
dragons breath
from prehistoric rock
remnants from a long dead ancestor
who is your cousin
but perhaps not mine;
you have the copper strain
& I have green,
perhaps I had more oxygen
and you had more fire.
the old,
who are drawn to fire
as water is drawn out by salt
have winds of a humid clime
& those who have stayed
in the dragons breath,
their puddles are drying,
& the green is hard to see
(but still there for those who look)
hidden but not lost under a crust
of copper & conglomerates.

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