Saturday, January 23, 2016



The flower is the part that
saves. Spare me the
stamen I want

vibrato, scent, the elevation of
pleasure the buzz of
colored lights I want
customer service and

How do we know what a
waste of time a
waste of time is?

(Your voice has worn a
groove in my skin.)

A peal of laughter from the
big-boned girl in blue,
eyeshadow, mascara, those teeth!
A trail of petals across the
tiles a song.

Notes: Perhaps a tribute to my late mother's love of light and color. All of this sprouting from my barista's fetching smile.

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