I need to find that chatty little thing –
the chatty little grinning thing
that sits at the edge of the table
and curls like a puppy
gentle thighs –
telling her how she’ll be treasured tonight.
Much like those cracks in her smile
and her wings,
those thighs are
far less brave than they might seem,
for all the symbolism on that belt buckle.
She’s more like that fray on the edge of her shorts…
an end of something,
hoping not to tumble out and disappear
before he says something funny again
and laces the fear between giggles with something like kindness…
and she puts all manner of cosmic wheels on hold
by daring to believe it.
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