Two glasses. They sit on my table, my brown table, the table that used to be new, new to me now after years of separation, suddenly restored, a new plug in an old socket that recognizes its shape but not its scent.
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A Moment of Being
She hopped out of the bus, bade her bus driver a good day, and clobbered onto the soaked sidewalk. Pihu loved the smell of the green ferns, the emerald soaking into her wet pink sneakers, she could see them in her mind, they were now the little sweet cubes of Starbursts that she ate in hordes before losing her first tooth. She had never cared for sweets until the tooth fairy gave her fifty cents, their metallic scent all over her fingers, soon turned sticky by thousands of M&Ms.
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Replaced
Everyday, every experience, changes, replaces a small piece of you
For better or worse.
I may never come home the same,
Even if I am the same in name.
How long until I’m no longer me?
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September
I hate September. It’s the worst month, one of indecision, as if nature can’t make up her mind on whether to burn or ice us out. Either way, I know she’s restless. And frankly, so am I. Showers in September are lukewarm, food is middling, my hair can’t decide to smoothen out or frizz up, and my hands are either clammy or Saharan. September smells like bittersweet blueberries, the excitement of school friends and fresh clothes, new subjects in old ripped pages, the dread of leaving behind sunnier, freer days.
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