Monday, February 14, 2011


She liked getting stoned and cracking each other's toes

She loved Danny Devito, who she drew onto an egg and then cried the day she had to eat him

When she blinked one eye stayed down longer than the other

She had done too much acid

She thought clouds were grabbable, like cotton candy, until she was fourteen

She sang "so fresh and so clean" in the shower

She defended the homeless so long as they didn't talk too much

She didn't like anyone who talked too much

She was a kid except when she wanted to be mean

Then she was a practiced adult

She is alive, somewhere, and when she blinks one eye stays down longer

When she showers, she sings

And as I write this she dreams of eating the clouds from the sky