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Roughshod | by ashley & traci
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Roughshod

A starfish has maybe eight years in the wild. You can find them in the shallow areas of the shore. You pick them up and their breath is your fingertips. You have to pry them off of you for them to live. You have to walk back to your towel and dry off. You have to walk back to your towel. You have to walk back, you cannot leave everything there.

 

Berry, berry quite contrary, how does your redness grow?

 

I am all fingernails. I bite, I chew, I pull the skin taut in sucking off. There are words so dirty they cannot be said in darkness. If I were simply a pair of eyelids I would only then be worth my self in weight.

 

You walk out on me when I'm singing (sighing) at you, and you're wearing headphones so I follow you around. This is charades, and I am winning. (Big Bold Letters.) It is fifty-one million to three. There is no music on. (Pretend.)

 

There is a definition for desire that uses letters and spaces and punctuation. I spit out sunflower seeds on my car seat. You will sit there when I pick you up from work.

 

In a world of overground and overgrown I am a well. I am full of shoes and leftover odd-sized carpet pieces. Balloons pop over me. I am a basket of warm, wet guns.

 

something there is that cannot stand a wall

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Taken on May 1, 2008