Prose

We met you in the open alley, I

like paint drops

splashed and smattered as

tufts of grass as tall as words, handpainted in

intricate and gold like (godlike) sun freckled

(im)perfection


You were brown to the touch -like

amber- and

keys with no chain,

and celular Dog

ear soft, catapulted between

the flood lights and chairs


You hung, a porcelain doll blue, all

cherished and fully un-whole.