Hover Topic: Orchid hands

She woke up with eyes that saw only red.  Every sign was a stop, every light was no go.  She tore open the skin of my ankle bone.  Racing just as fast as I could.  Not withstand the beat of the rum.  Rum makes the machines go wildly affable.  Laughable.  She stuck the pin in my best throw triple salchow.

And it hardly seems fairWhere is common sense hidingHaven’t we heard this story before?

Couldn’t she just promise to color and filet, in quickness and in stealth, for merchants and moors till wealth drew us far?

I’d win a hundred gold medals for her.  No bronze for her make-up case.  She’s allergic to silver.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s