Saturday, February 04, 2006

Missy Umpstums

Wish you could
do a soft-shoe buffalo
across my floor
and show me that impish grin
you keep hidden,
to hear you,
Annie-esque, squawk
in mock earnest
and put Brian in stitches.
A toad-wielding terror
scattering prim mothers
happy as a bee
to make them scream.
That quiver in your Elvis lip
holds those arrows that pierce our hearts.
Oh, Miss Gina, do I wish
it were all mine to remember.

W D Burns
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