warm, concrete by Angela Thomas i stand in the middle of a full, open field amungst all of these bright poppies and the little green bugs that crawl on their leaves. a fresh, crisp white linen dress with little lace detailing just above the knee. i would lay down slowly, crushing the large flowers underneath my body, the dress folding around the sides, the flowers' edges poking out like roses wrapped in fine paper on their way to an important date. amungst the flowers i breathe in - my chest fills but no scent graces my memory. only dirt, the soft headiness of a spring day about to bloom, warm concrete with the smell of the lush median we park the car against, full of potential and ripe with the scent of commerce. i would open my legs, spread my palms, grip the nearest stalk with my exposed little toes and i would hold my voice up high. high enough to shake whatever little airplane you are travelling home on for your thanksgiving dinner and i call out, im grateful just to have had you in my life. i give you thanks. 11/19/2007 Posted on 11/19/2007 Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)