October 19, 2010 § 1 Comment

Laughter drips off of ice cream cones

And trickles over pinky promises

Melting into nights that smell like summer

But feel like fall

And slippery skin from sprinkler summers

Dries like wavy sun-streaked hair

Collage cut-outs of high-heeled careers

And ken doll boyfriends with race car souls

Imaginary scrapbooks of a crayon-colored life

Juice box promises and secret-code oaths

Locked away with origami records

Beneath shrouds of sleeping bag secrecy



§ One Response to #3

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