by Cory Adamson
Pastels on top of
neon
The keepsakes and
clutter covered in
gray powder.
Not a scratch or dent
on one.
Isabel yowls and
whines for mama
and daddy to take
her bow off.
Sticky clean smell on
top of sticky clean smell.
In the psychedelic plastic pot
Sits a brown, saggy
lump under sand. Thorns
like spaghetti.
Not an ounce of real
green in sight.
The floor’s shag kicks
up static and dust
to sneeze from.
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