that one girl (naked_intent) wrote in _chickenscratch,
that one girl
naked_intent
_chickenscratch

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apology and Scratched: child's play

As many of you seem to have found yourselves, I was seriously taken hostage by the so-called real world. I'm quite happy to say that I'm comfortable enough now to tell most people, most of the time, when and where they can shove it.

So, back to the writing.



Let's play

cops and robbers--you are the bad guy
whodunnit, went and stole away
something precious; but I'm not
gonna tell you what, so
now I will shoot you
down. But I can't hit you then
so we'll switch up positions
and I'll be a doctor, in a practice
on my patience. You'll become whole, though
our eyelashes stitch together
better than anything I can make
alone, with pins and needles.
But be cautious, I'm never to be trusted
with sharp objects--you may want
to be teacher, take my hand
and show me. [Just don't zealously wield
your ruler about me; nothing measures
to overexacting standards, and you're bigger
than that anyway.] So far I'm graduating
with an 'a' for 'adequate.' This is progress
bought by slipping lunch money, but not so much
tongue; you pass grainy comments in the suggestion box
and throw sand, spitting 'no talk-back is allowed.' Bully
for you, I call time out.
During our recess, I'll rebel
and we'll have to try on our sea legs
as I crouch, a pirate protecting a mysterious hoard
long obscured by a curtain of fish in the see.
You prepare to take your best stab then
and when the tides storm against the hold
with matching stomps down a corridor, begging follows
for a final sword fight. At high noon
it's high time to admit that's enough of the games
of hide-and-seek with accents, so I'll relent
because I'd be buried; I seem to have lost my way
and there are murmurs
promising other worlds left to chart. But
the rules of engagement aren't on a map; any way
while we wrestled for top position
you whispered that you'd found a good spot
for treasure under the treehouse;
and from there, I've decided, we'll take turns
to push each other on the worn tire swing

for the rest of our time.


Let's get this party started, shall we
[and not die of amusement that I'm the one saying that]
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