for QMN, since i stole his line.

sushi sand or starshine

the room sickly sweet
butterflies cascaded
she feared their spindly black limbs
[I wonder why do we not decide as a collective
whole to call them flutter-by's from this instant on]
[for the same reason the keys on this keyboard
are not in alphabetic order when they easily could be now that no one
uses typewriters]
[and for the same reason America refuses to use
the metric system]
weighted air, laced with syrup
sunlight danced a samba on her new white skirt
and she sat. and she smiled
a shutter let in light. the smile now frozen in space.
she never really stopped smiling
which most would say is a wonderful thing
but not if you knew that the only time she ever feels beautiful is
when she smiles
[stop posing]
[i'm not]
but she is. always
hands trace her face
and then gently tug small leaves out of tangled hair
for all the touch in the world she has received
rarely was it a true caress
[you argued once that the metric system was not as detailed]
[a lifetime of debate is the gift you gave us]
[I'm done with it and giving it back]
fascinated with fingertips always
the whole world of possibility sits complacently within them
creation of art and touch
the only two things that really matter
except for words perhaps
cacophony is a truly marvelous word
[ I think she fell in love with my words first]
[ I think you might be right]