Thursday, March 14, 2013

wordsmashedpotatoes


Bowen Island, March 2013
Taken with a Holga
 
She, She Ran with me.
Together
hands flipping around
my face
I ask to stop
stop in
stomp in
stall in
stall? hesitate? What for?
Dive.

I am a joke.
I am a self-centered child.
I am a redundant blur not to be regarded.
I am one of those annoying LCD signs that bothers you each time you see it like a speck of dust in your eye.
I am a twisted hypocrite.
Call me out on it.
Yell it in my face.
I've been waiting for someone to acknowledge it.

I desire to love.
I desire to grow.
I desire to learn.
I desire to create.
I desire to break the phonograph in my head that’s stuck on Track A.
A for Alaska.
A for.
Don’t say it.
Don’t say it.
Let it go.

simple leftovers
a feast that satisfies us
cold mashed potatoes
And red heads are generally my favourite.

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