1. Lists are the tops, in the summer waste, when Satan dances on the earth.
2. Only a few feet away, the bikini-clad blessings are a dismal blur.
3. You can't swim worth a damn. Stop kicking.
4. But it's not summer. It's spring.
5. Its afterbirth makes you ill. Don't accept it.
6. Count to ten, pretend winter will bury you.
7. Don't be sad. You've always been cold in spirit.
8. It's a variation of drowning. Stop kicking.
9. The blessings have disappeared over the curving horizon.
10. Satan is dancing on your stiff chest. Do lists even matter?
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