eight forty-one (strawberry roar).

All dressed up
I close my eyes shut

and let the strawberries
in my mouth

roar.
It’s a bit

beyond eight
and I’m late for work

but who cares
because I’ve got strawberry

juice dripping over
the corners of my lips

tickling in streams

a scraggly chin.
Oh, my!

It’s a strawberry past eight

and I’m late
but I just don’t care

because I’ve got my face
all crayoned in strawberry
juice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

________________

capture-du-2016-05-18-17-17-55

Photo: Elif TIG

 

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