Matchbox Altars
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Like polished stones.
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She made the choice.
No longer young.
Below the frayed hem of his shorts.
The glee in sharing it.
Ready; expectant.
Looking for her beginners mind.
Hunched over.
Like polished stones.
Fresh air.
Open it up.
She's almost home.
Blindfolded.
Someone else's pretty life.
Spring forth.
Her favorite summer.
The bus blew right past.
She worried about her ankles showing.
Let the radish take the picture.
Good.
A temporary welt on her hand.
Call this one a success.
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