i. Coffee is ordered. Cappuccino is brought; drink lost in translation. ii. Mosquito trying to bite; I am attempting haiku. We both fail. iii. Atlantic trade winds Nblow through just shampooed Afro: Air dried natural.
i. Words are heard; arms, legs, hair move in one rhythm. Her body is the poem. ii. Wide eyes, open mouths: suburban stillness, unnerves inner city kids. iii. Beige window shades sway; sounds of approaching sirens blow through the classroom.
i. New cherry blossoms sway. Breezes chill falling rain. The smell of morning. ii. Grey, graphite shadows beneath pink, rubber debris: writing still exists. iii. April afternoon sunshine; small brown boy runs, arms open, hugging life.