The beat of rain & other scraps

Rainwater from the rooftop
like a grandfather clock pendulum,
a plastic bucket hollow
or a slow beat on a bongo


No one would ever lay in the grass like that
yet there she was with leather on
embracing the code offense in the yard (gasp)


Her cami straps like overcooked angel hair spaghetti
(or something)

Published by Cassandra

Writer and visual artist. Avid reader, cuddle bunny. Sweetie, I'd love to.

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