The mirror has fallen to break so many more times since the initial crash, undoubtedly that occasion leading to its abandonment curbside as trash for my finding. The mirror has fallen so many times, but this last at an attempt desperate by K to leave my crowded bedroom. She left mostly a crescent of glass in her wake; I approve consistently.
An icecream cake, cookies and cream and yellowgreen flowers. A birthday cake for Ch. A red dress, one with tulips maybe, forest green, taco chile sticks of smoke. That old coconut scent everywhere, probably just a reminder of the future, the next weeks during which peregrenations occur.
a distressless little creature beneath it all. a dreamless little one!
Yes, this mirror story is not me analogizing, for example, a tale of the innards in rhetoric and flavorless poetries. Just a decent little remainder of a night spent. And then yes, I too should pick up those busted shards sitting like shiny mountains resting against the walls. By the door, so always underfoot nearly. To be laconic, that is for certain...
I love a laugh a punch in a bowl called icecream cold brings.
