Sunday, February 17, 2013

Kites, Keys, Krinkles

One, school. In a jar. The only cookie, looks like one.
But it was tender, so tender. It melted down my throat.

Two, lunch. At an eatery. Generosity. My pseudo-aunt
placed on my palm that cookie look-alike. Still tender, so tender.

Three, internet. On the book of faces. I ate your timeline.
Thunders went down my spine. That cookie is a mystery.

You are the solution.

By chance.

***

*Krinkles intended


I couldn't steal it.

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