Matchbox Altars
Thursday, May 7, 2009
She couldn't get away from them.
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She begins again.
Sweet glory what a beautiful day.
What was she thinking?
It took awhile to find them.
It's hard to see anything else.
Next time breathe.
A nap was half upon her.
Focus on one thing.
She held herself back.
It's taking the first shot that's the hardest.
She needed to get out.
Nothing about her strayed.
Hers were sucked dry.
She'll keep a history.
She can see the fruit.
The neighbors are fighting.
They're little altars.
How the hell does that happen?
Like magic.
She had no answers.
She likes them.
Barely anyone says a word.
The sunlight made her want to cry.
A bit of distance is a wondrous thing.
She couldn't get away from them.
Finding a warm place.
Looking hard.
Be quiet.
Her moments of exuberance.
... with bits of red.
Two girls with one umbrella.
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