Her body is a loose stack of pillows wrapped in ruched floral Lycra. We place her on the lower set of stairs, so we remember to bring her up.
When she smiles, the parting of her fire-engine lips sounds like crackin’-a-cold-one at 4:00 AM.
Her favorite possession is this year’s Valentine’s Day teddy bear. She keeps a mirror compact handy, pink shaving cream always within scratching distance. Her shampoos and strawberry milk are packaged in palm-sized sacks.
When hearing the soft patter of rain, she thinks to dab rosewater behind her downy knees; she doesn’t think “oh, I need to pee.”
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Collage by Pete
Greenquist |
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