| *loolaville _poetry | |||||
| Sometimes It Is Me Red, dark red, brick red, maroon and fuzzy The fuzz you swallow whole when you hug me and the feathers or tassles frame my neck and collar bones and cheeks where my hair tips off spike-like and crunchy just underneath that soft thick patch Playing with my rings each sentimentally worn around small hands that fist or open depending on my mood perceived through my eyes washed and worn-out some sort of tired tiny green but make me laugh and the stars twinkle at you Half mad half crazy half plain jane average as normal as all get-out with a tendency to sleep naked and over-smoke dance too much or sing too loud in the car with the windows rolled down and no air-conditioning and classic rock loud as loud as loud as ever Or peanut butter at the corner of my mouth and all of these thoughts about God and stem-cells or rainforests Altogether a beautiful creature somewhat odd to settle into and be content with or to love but nonetheless Spinning through life sometimes it is me. |
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