it is
again           a year
you’ve awoken

to purple day   
and light’s a lust

on twin 
hyacinths and another
                      type of green

you once remembered
                      as a disheveled boy

when you were almost young
                      going nowhere

without provisions
against the late

rain chills
the early blooms 
spoiled

and beaten
you’ve never gotten

over
losing the lottery