(“we are all ripening


         (flawlessly. thank you.”

                                        she steps down
                                        from the podium,

                                                her tall black boots,

                                        her smooth,
                                        slim ass,

                                        straightened, black hair
                                                                           with dead ends like a filament bouquet,

                                        small kissable nose,
                                        to rest.                                I think)

         (that if she ever got the chance
          to hug a star she would squint and squeeze, she would

                                                  grind her teeth grind her fierce eyelids and


                                                  with her body until she or the star shattered.)


(I cried the entire way home. (thank you.))

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.