full moon or the like

Oh it's nearly summer now and this is how I know. I've been drinking too much, to drown out the noise telling me this continuous shifting shape of the carrot on the stick of the past few months is little more than a breeze in a dream. It's not real. It's a telescope peered down from both ends, now much further and now much closer and neither one is sharper than the other. It's not right. And I toss around again that nagging possibility I can't spell out, not quite frantic but almost, until suddenly the shape becomes strong for just one quick clear second. It is tall. Its laugh is as deep as its faith. That. Is what I know. Then now it swings again and it shrinks again and now it's all dimples and snatches of words and then again it's dark and forbidden and again now it's hunched over the handlebars, it's shiny and it's cool like frozen custard, rainbow jimmies. That's all why and that's all how I know. Knowing summer is only a holding on until I can be still and quiet once more.