Spinning and lilting

     white and heat.

 Stench of wildberries

and soft linen.

  Desert pressed against my face.

Cacophony of children

laughing

         playing

   screaming.

         Rusty steel wheel

   lurching

scraping,  scratching against

vinyl mud flooring stacked beneath cinder walls.

 Cold white plastic against my fingertips.

Folding my secrets on a mint green counter.

Naked for the world to see.

 

Another Sunday afternoon

underdeveloped and overexposed.

When will my ship come in?

.

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