wafting in the breeze of the solstice morning.
out the French doors to your backyard patio and Gerber daisy garden.
Their magenta petals glisten in the morning dew, spewing
rosy pinches of light into the air of daybreak.
Air that feels soft like the cotton that
fills your mouth when you’re nervous,
similar to the unbearable terror that you felt
in Mrs. Vandernaald-Johnson’s speech class
when you still lived in
Mr. Macabobby not Mrs. Vandernaald-Johnson.
The books in the family library sat
gathering inches of dander-filled dust
overlooked by the “overpaid, worthless, bumbling” maid, Juanita
much to the dismay of my rich, unappreciative
proverbial, cackling evil step-mother.
The very same who refused to allow
any of us to let our freak flags fly,
her personality dry due
to repeated bleaching of her naturally mousy hair.
I would build my house out of chocolate
if I lived in
my younger sister would tell me each time “the witch”
would press the immense desert of our patience.
We were as happy as a freshly stubbed toe in that house,
so we drifted out into the night air,
quietly floating above the clouds,
amongst the stars that tasted sweet like sugar granules.
Missy Lou and her sister
starring as Peter Pan and Wendy Darling:
We know that growing up is something
only the foolish do in their spare time.
On nights it rained, the puncturing droplets
poked holes in our imaginations in the midst of our dreams
of a candy-coated wonderland. The sugary sweet aroma
sliding into our nostrils and straight down to our stomachs
filling us more than a Thanksgiving meal.
Our thoughts would have another day to wait so our souls could rest.
Tu ausencia me devora entero el corazón---
screams embraced us with bony arms
while the portraits on the walls covered their ears,
shifting their gaze the other way
The achromatic a cappella raining down on us,
flooding out the burgeoning gardens of our thoughts.
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