"Shorty" leans against the car,
Cigarette dangling from her fingers.
Denim mini slightly grungy,
Posture claims she doesn't care
We do not see her face.
Boyfriend? brother? looks at her,
Wonders with his eyes.
Where will her balloon end up?
Her last string frayed and snapped,
The chain around her neck
Is no anchor, and
She drifts away, whispers,
"Life was perfect until I was eleven."
This poem is inspired by a… Continue
Posted on December 10, 2009 at 12:31am