Bohemian waif

Inner cinema montage

deep echoing adventures,

strikes of color, light, paralysis

held in violent emotion.

A mere babe runs away across

a busy street, hiding beneath bushes,

because she could, demanding


Dark city nights, hugged to

myself, alone

Walking through brick and mortar


past trashcan fires, street community.

Thumb out, shivering icy roads,

or flooded highways, bare foot

scorching desolate insomniac


Haunted explorations, led by that

fantasy aura obfuscating rational view.

Mini romances that cut through,


Across smoking stone overpass,

high to high school AP exam where

the words floated from rakish eye to

#2 pencil, an array of imprinted


Lying in the garden on cotton,

tasting boysenberry yogurt,

hoping the world disappears,

ends here where the bullied

anxiety won’t follow.

Quiet now …

I’ll tell you more on morrow


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