Sometimes I form
snakes, or spliffs. Sometimes the cuts aren’t deep enough.
I don’t want to
know, but I want to be good. I want a natural way.
You tell me with
your eyes closed that you like to watch me
concentrate. Fold clothes, lashes low. So I move slow
–
fold and place and
lift back up.
Balance trays,
one arm, burnt buzzing.
Pat my hair. Laugh
loud so the splash
will carry past the
customers
right through the
flour
plumes.
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