g r a v e l
A L I T E R A R Y J O U R N A L
On this spring day white petals skydive to earth
like ice cream snow
or wedding rice.
You wouldn’t think swirling sugar and knotty cotton
would taste good together but
chicklet teeth laugh hitting the sidewalk
and not helping it, I laugh with them.
Thirty one flavors of smells
include wet sidewalks,
messy teenage grass that doesn’t want to clean up,
nutty bird seed,
and white fluffy clouds,
the ones in every song ever made.
The grass: brilliant.
The sky: a hug.
The clouds: a little stand-offish but then felt embarrassed.
The dog: crazy with joy.
Me: thinking about the joke you told at the airport
that made me smile and I didn’t have to fake it.
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