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My summer is undone/ unmade from cropped collages Old photo & Ice-cream booths and café crema, oh how smooth – the feel of heated plastic on a lipstick. I pass my face through invisible cobwebs --no need even (for inversion) here-- for they lack intricacy and I lack style to scale up Eliot’s hydrangeas into Russian. No home for me back there, really my choice, barely these petty annoyances can make me |
oh how smooth – the feel of heated plastic on a lipstick. I love these lines and much of the imagery here. All of it seems to speak of some sort of longing and loss but I can't quite find my way on this path of breadcrumbs you have left. | Posted on 2014-07-08 00:00:00 | by JanePlane | [ Reply to This ] | |