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Bus Lines: 42

Standing flat footed, side by side on the concrete, our pedestrian legs would not let us escape. It was windy, our cheeks chapped, perhaps a god slapping my face. Shame on me for thinking the seven cities are made of gold, shame on me for thinking families grow from love. I believed your lawn was a lush green blanket. But when I arrived on Bus Number 42 which spit me out at your stone garden, I looked up into an old, father’s face—yours. Set in its stolid ways, foolish even.

Bus Lines: 28

I went the other route
to make it work.
These wheels slither
on to new
destinations where I will grow
my own living
in a new kind of church.
I left you before my fears
could implant a new
seed
in my womb when you
were never careful.
I’m rolling in plastic
diamonds,
denim shorts and shoes
worn out by time, mind you,
so remember that
on this bus none of us
are trash and none of us
are just women.
We are black white and brown
mothers, workers, daughters
who churn along to new directions
for our precious young.
A pregnant teenager faints
in the moist heat
as the Mother in all of us
onlookers
wheel onward,
instinctively cooling
the familiar,
fallen youth.

amaaaaaaaazing.

We are getting a dwarf bunny!!

We are getting a dwarf bunny!!

!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!

To the closing of old doors and the opening of new and better ones.

To the closing of old doors and the opening of new and better ones.

krickeleien:

Made With  Paper

Ok, it’s Friday, the 13th but that’s just another good reason to add more colour. 😉

krickeleien:

Made With Paper

Ok, it’s Friday, the 13th but that’s just another good reason to add more colour. 😉
desixlb:

wishing for rain.

desixlb:

wishing for rain.