Shuffle Mode

She’s got That Polaroid Smile, hidden, she feels bit Violet nowadays; she thinks a lot and believes little and when her head hits the pillow she makes a wish for him.
She says daises and sunflowers are the most playful bunch of flowers and vases are just pretty looking cages. She does not give flowers, without roots at least, ever, because it’s beautiful to see life grow, so she gave him a package of seeds and even though they were spoiled, he still dug a home for them and now he waits and he waits and she waits with him too but they both know.
She's all for hopscotch n swings on Sundays, sideway ponytail, hoops, bare-foot twirling, the 50’s, the 60’s, The Supremes n gray-scale dreaming and she does not like skirts but this one's different; maybe because it once belonged to her mom, or the way it hugs her close and still lets her be free, maybe its the softness, or was it the look in her dads eyes that made her a princess…
She goes back and reads his letter and his words are only words, so she rips it into a hundred-something, meshes it together with some color, corn starch-for strength, water, superglue, gives it some time, light and everything they lacked and reads this new page; it still doesn’t make sense but she knows, maybe too well.

She loves those midnight talks over fast food with big brothers.
Every time she hears That Sound she pauses; it could be good or it could be bad, that was the thing, she didn’t know which and sometimes she looks out the window, stares at the sidewalk and sees him and even her and there's a ringing, and its kind of late, she does not want to know but she knows.
She has to strain now to read That Language and doesn’t know exactly when she started thinking in This One, maybe it was in 4th grade, she signed up for something and she didn’t know what it was till she found herself with a microphone, in front of gazillion pairs of eyeballs and she was asked to spell this word she couldn’t even say, she didn’t even know the difference between past and present, or I before E, except after C , she still doesn’t know, so she mumbled some jumble and came out with a meaning for a spelling bee.
She knows a lot of pretty people and they're not all beautiful.
She’s remembering Terminal Street; beautiful Soulie, wearing her silver-black bangles like always, clicks to capture the 31 flavors and even though this is their first time and might even be the last, it feels like a ritual.
She loves Perspective on Gerontology because her professor isn’t really a professor, she's a teacher.

Her brother taught her how to sit on a bike, how to deal with bullies, she had five of them, 6 if she counts herself, and he even taught her how to hold n aim a real heavy gun- just not how to load n shoot. But there’s one lesson she does not like, the way she learned worthless.
She’s glad that just say no is still taught but somebody forgot to teach how to listen to a no when a person asks to please stop or maybe they didn't understand her because they didn’t go to a spelling bee of their own yet, maybe.
She likes the mini chocolate muffins that come in packs of three but loves them only when she has someone to share them with and her Pack of Three, they were inseparable, completed each other just like the wooden dolls that fit perfectly one inside the other and she hopes at least they fit just fine but she knows.
She thinks socks were really invented to skate down the smoothly tiled hallway and she also thought if she dug deep enough she'd safely fall in and out the other side of the world but now she knows and she's glad she knows and what about the time she used to peer into the tape player trying to catch a glimpse of the singing couple dancing in gardens? And once she asked her dad if they could go watch a movie someday at TJ’s Theater and she was glad she didn’t have to go to a spelling bee to understand ShowGirl.
Now she asks how often we say Mongolia, Not very often... and she wonders if nothing says something.

Everyday she wakes up before the sun and this is the only time she finds beauty in the mirror and the only time she's got That Polaroid Smile.
And as I’m writing this, she’s listening to this song called Cool, trying to figure out if the girl is happy or sad or both and she can’t decide, so she lets it be but I know she knows.

-u.p.