she my feet and short temper, and you have to wonder if the two are connected, whether or not our temperments are tied to the shape and contour of our feet.
behavioral predestination.
my eyelashes but her mother’s eyes, pleading and mischievous at the same time, brillant browns speckles of gold dancing behind the irises. she yelps and runs and bops her mother in the face when her mom and i cuddle too close for her liking.
it’s not jealously exactly, she’s fine as long as she’s a part of it. left out and she goes ballistic.
Monthly Archives: June 2005
she spins
around and around she goes whipping frenzy
she sways between street lights
“its utter shit now” she laughs, arms asunder
and i’d like for her to stay awhile before the rain
to catch a glimpse of her tongue, an edge of her teeth
before she rockets out of here