Saturday, November 28, 2009

On the verge of peppermint mocha

The wind's still rolling and now I've caught on. I run quickly down alleyway and walk next to deep blue river. Reeds bend, water breaks, my hair flies. She says "beta" and I think of fish in a bowl, swishing fiesty tail. She says I'm the powerful one and I realize she's right, that maybe I have been all along.

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