memories of 4.27 by Devon E MattysMy muscles tense and flex, grow tired, and fade. Someone licks their fingers, twists ta mamelon, and puts it in a candles flame. You wince, you wimp. I grin. I aim a pistol aimed at air (cock it lock it kick it lick it) breathe the fragrance (skin been bared?) then rise unscathed, some minor prophets feet to bathe.
The children skip stones across the yard. With the recess and the puddles, theyre getting fairly far.
I, the cat, just stretch and yawn; another restless day is gone. My muscles tense and flex and fail. She sings a note, I stir... in seven years, well two set sail, never to return.
04/30/2002 Posted on 04/30/2002 Copyright © 2024 Devon E Mattys
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