wide eyes gripping
lilies in the the pond
we walked for miles but the water
was all gone.
so we set up our picnic in this desert
and we drank our imagination dry,
so that when i broke the ice off the door,
you were waiting.
and i couldn't pretend to smile
or care for a moment,
because, hell, i was barely thawed.
yellow.
imagine if we painted it yellow,
on a whim,
because we want to escape this dreary
northern town (and everything that we associate it with).
well, it would still be snowing outside.
don't blame me.
you just haven't learned
the laws of
conservation of mind,
soul,
dreams.
i'd only paint it yellow if that's what i wanted it to be.
7 comments:
you tell her?
it makes me sad.
a. tell her what?
b. "mimosa" is the new yellow. hello, don't you read?
c. even though it is apparent that i missed the loop on this happening (that is not the phrase, is it?) i still think it is good.
i must admit, i have no clue what you're talking about, kerri.
annie, thank you.
oh. well, maybe i fail. but was the first stanza at least sort of about emma?
i feel you should know that when i read the phrase "so we set up our picnic in this dessert" i imagined a bunch of people having a picnic on the quivering surface of a giant bowl of pudding.
fuckfuck why do i always make stupid mistakes like that?
i imagined chocolate mousse pie, myself. it was actually kind of a pretty picture. but NOAH! was i right?
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