a girl is occupying herself by standing outside.
she has an indigo parka that wraps her up like a
miser's hand around gold. late afternoon sunshine
that casts its hand down upon her hair timidly flickers
the strands into color - bright and vibrant, like morning.
and the girl keeps poetry in her pockets.
she shares them with the boy next door,
and the kid at school. he reads them in empty hallways.
and she knows he has a good chance of understanding those words...
the words that appear in her sleep at night
while lying alone in the deep blue darkness,
and waiting for the bus on thursdays.
you can read my words here...
