Adriana.K.Maxwell
I have a hoard of notebooks, only two or three pages filled, former ambitions scattered between them, I wish I was someone who kept a diary because I would like to read it. But when things are happening, there's no time to write and when there's time to write, there is nothing to say.
Lollipop, rainbow swirl at the checkout counter, childhood dream, too big for my mouth, cartoon treat
I stand in front of all the saws. I do not know which one I need, something to cut colored pencils into jewelry but I am not the standard customer and the salesman is unsure how to fulfill my strange request.
I am not used to an easel. I bend over, sketchbook on my lap, on the table. The hunching over with a Valentine pencil in August.
Umbrella over us, rain drumming above the spiderweb of wires, splashing neon color on night puddles while the earth takes a deep breath
Flat bread, layers of meat and cheese, walking-around meal, picnics and hurrying up to eat so you can get back to the fun
Jump over this, window to an upside down world, sky melting in mud, a pond for only today, before it settles deep into the roots and the worms
Lemonade, summer sour-sweet, sun on too-pink cheeks, ducking into tree shadow lace on green grass, watching clouds, and running barefoot
The kettle is warming up as she clears the table, turns soft music on, and lights a vanilla candle. It is time to relax. She has had it all planned out.
click-clack, wheels, and switches. "You got that?" Ethan asks Maya-ak but she is safe in a small dark place with things to fix, things to move until they work right
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