A slick of orange ripples across the lake like barrels of paint spilled and left to mirror the ball of bright that sustains our existence. If I caught a fish in the reflection it would bleed orange and in eating it my skin would turn the color of gumball tree leaves in autumn. It would glow like jack lanterns on a spooky porch. My heart would then thrust Sunkist out my veins across my pumpkin skin and back into the lake of fire/home of the morning glow that emits warmth like the bottom of a log in a fire still glowing from the night before.
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