Painting motifs in the screw of time, blitheness and wooden beads, breathing and Japanese tea lights.
Orange melons scathed with white, smooth, ceramic shearing scissors.
Metal wrought fence line spirally and basked to perfection.
Ripped paper tears and black shiny shells.
Washed, ripped frothy blue jeans, and sharp, zigzag zipper toothed rocker jacket, with the straps pulled tight.
Busting buttons on a striped dinner blouse, and empty plain green napkins, stuffed into a large hidden sweatshirt pocket.
Slippery words, as round as a sunflower’s center, but strewn into scattered bits of cloth, all zebra print, all laying there as rings of sweat appear in the pristine glass of water, pearls of condensation awaiting.
Still waiting.
Finally!
A hand, (made of Birch wood) strikes it, its fingers slipping off the free-lined slope of clear sand and molten heat, smothering it with pearly yellow droplets, comes hissing from a dog, fur like a brown shaggy rug, slobbering on the fine marble-edged floor.
Oh, the vigor!
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