If you can't rush, run. Spill out of yourself and down the street for spring has come. It's a riot, a full helter-skelter of blossoms and hope, a firework out in the quiet. The long lope of winter slows for it. Autumn trembles below it. A great green goddess is pushing up the horizon and they have to run to keep up or fall. Spring is tossing us between her two hands like a ball. Up and catch and never stop us, never drop us. She knows her game. It's to get every one of us chanting her name. And I'm the same. I want to be your Spring, the queer wild thing that startles you out of your bed with flowers. I want to turn your minutes into hours in