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Pictures of Michelle |
She got all around my head again, bent it over her text books to
teach me the speed light travels through my ears and how slowly sound
comes back to me from December to December. You know how losing goes,
into her away from now and then you wake up breathing heavy, smelling
juniper body wash on pillows you threw out months ago. There was delay
and there was wasting but my time card suffered much more intensely
than I ever allowed my heart to. Hours and hours of glittery packages
bursting open like literary pinatas, orgies of ash laced beer bottle
poetry on Sunday afternoons; kisses blown from tree- tops have a long
time to fall. Good intentions, hell, the best intentions but all our
labor was fruitless, languid and warm but not solid; not ballast when
I needed it. It was just a song, just a little whisper in the rain
when the asphalt was glowing and the wind was tearing my hair; it was
just a tiny glance over my shoulder; just a brief wondering
- Kristyn Sherman
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Submitted: 12/9/2003 |

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