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PoetShmoet
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The long benches were apolstered in rough pink, a deep pastel. I passed my grandmother the tiny spiral notebook from her purse, a grid of dots already drawn.

We'd stand,
and sit (more)
you have up to 300 words. what will you say?They used to put Post Toasties box tabs in their shoes when they walked a hole through the bottom.
But Grandma never knew she was poor.
She felt the Grapes of Wrath was just a tad bit dramatic.
After several hours dicking around, she aimed toward her homework assignment. But first! a type trigger.
We sprawled, faces to the mats as Margaret described the whole of the needle. The whole is a tiny point along my spine, between the shoulder blades on whichever side I'm stretching to itch-- now I can't stop thinking about it!
(more)
are two dimensional.
The wind was hot but the hill was down, so in a flew to a bay that warned road users to "lock your boat, or away it will float!"

It seemed odd at the time, until I began to ride up with other side of the steep valley(more)
"Can you play me a song? Its my birthday!"
"Sure, whats your name doll?"
Darling Bell!
No way, your names not Darling Bell--
It is! I'll prove it.
(presents identification) (more)
dull headache and dry nostril that has me reminiscing of the bed I slept in as a child
the back of my mother's hand
her weight on  my bedside
constant hiss off decades old humidifier
that head-cold sleep that allows one to witness both her dreams
and the day light(more)