Yesterday
Ms. Haiku
Washington DC Posts: 7,279
He told her about the saffron trade while they dined on tapas and dissertations.
He made up stories of his grandmother smuggling prized threads,
but quickly revealed his fictional skills when she appeared too trusting.
The next road outlined on the map curved uphill
towards the town plaza and fountain.
Her camera swung near her hips.
The useless bumping of an unused weight
she blamed on the blank brightness of the sun.
Around her wrist she snuggly wrapped a silk scarf
folded around a few strands of saffron.
She didn’t stop when her heart beat faster uphill
or when she choked down the breath of the villagers’ beautiful day.
She valued the sensation of struggling, the battle fought
against a sterilized early evening.
He turned away from her as if to sneeze,
and she flattened her hands against his spine.
She felt the voiceless pain, humiliated within a hospital gown.
She saw the fountain; a voice for loyalty, age, idle hands, and carvings.
She cupped her hands into the cold fountain water
and brought them to her face. The shock of cold
pushes her back with water running down her arms and neck.
The women standing near bicycles
run to the stranger falling to her knees.
They see the blood trickle down her arm,
and they investigate what sharp edge has caused such pain.
He made up stories of his grandmother smuggling prized threads,
but quickly revealed his fictional skills when she appeared too trusting.
The next road outlined on the map curved uphill
towards the town plaza and fountain.
Her camera swung near her hips.
The useless bumping of an unused weight
she blamed on the blank brightness of the sun.
Around her wrist she snuggly wrapped a silk scarf
folded around a few strands of saffron.
She didn’t stop when her heart beat faster uphill
or when she choked down the breath of the villagers’ beautiful day.
She valued the sensation of struggling, the battle fought
against a sterilized early evening.
He turned away from her as if to sneeze,
and she flattened her hands against his spine.
She felt the voiceless pain, humiliated within a hospital gown.
She saw the fountain; a voice for loyalty, age, idle hands, and carvings.
She cupped her hands into the cold fountain water
and brought them to her face. The shock of cold
pushes her back with water running down her arms and neck.
The women standing near bicycles
run to the stranger falling to her knees.
They see the blood trickle down her arm,
and they investigate what sharp edge has caused such pain.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
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Comments
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
the reason i liked this so well is that i thought some mysterious affect to the physical had taken place
like the cold water itself had little sharp edges that cut her hands
and that made me go "wow"
i'm wierd, huh?
wierd and dumb... everything i've ever aspired to be
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
By the way, what did you write? I see the "my God" but you lost me for the rest there
Also, Ms. Pasta, I thought your analysis was right on.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
ai ai ai en que lio te as metido dios mio de mi almaaaa! - Tchaliz
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird