Monday, October 13, 2008

Wax

written November 7, 1995

Sunlight streaking her frizzy, ringlet, cinnamon brown hair Eyes of the same color watched the page, watched the page Slippery, wet tongue pokes out of the determined, little o She's pushing clouds around a white, soft, slip With her sky blue, waxy Crayola Favorite plastic table; A haven where she is enveloped by smooth bright colors and flat animals, bees. The windy day, brushed the leaves outside silver hot pink magenta flash, flash blue Oh, it's hot in her room, her hair frizzes away from her head Dimples deep holes in her way round cheeks Peels of green inch up the dulled stub, ground out a hill Mommy will put this one on the frigerator.

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