Matchbox Altars
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The door opens.
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Wax in her ears.
The red chair.
She carries them to work in her pocket.
She ignored the people passing by.
Swiss dotted.
Precedence setting.
One year has passed.
Street trash.
His attention.
On the floor.
The two halves of her hands.
Rarely is she ever just right.
What's not to love?
They stand back.
The other half of her heart.
Looking south.
Bright stars.
Triumphant.
The way it melts.
Bent over.
An hour.
It messes with her.
The door opens.
Deer heads on the wall.
The Easter Bunny.
Her body.
I love you.
Three in the afternoon.
Front row seats.
Hamsters in cages.
A slow dance.
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