Tuesday, January 31, 2012

(day 242: your fingers were spears (three parts))

Your fingers were spears
and they skewered me. I languished.
John Travolta laughed.  

I want to be fancied.
I didn't know better! Her purse is gold
strings, cut from your hand.

More needs to be said.
I write it! Still you are running, pant pant.
I will not follow.

I want to be fancied.

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