she’s
cartoon sweet/half from somewhere else
like a toy
like a childrens book of big pictures and vibrant colours
some small heroine
in soft antique garden green gloves
want to pop her on a cake baked to scale
dressed in bows
and her pink evening wig/listen to her accent
dance out
two dimensional homespun advice
drunk and drinking on the back seat of the granny buses
compulsively tidying the puzzles on her coffee table
my cynical ears and decelerator mind
open on a monday night
know her strange school analogies
have
never
applied
to
me
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