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What’s the push? The driving force? Scraping that flint with your nimble fingers, stirring up sparks with those deep green eyes. You’re always practicing. Always learning new tricks. Uncomfortable on telephones. At home along the lakeshore. Always quick with the olive branch but slow to adapt. You curry favor, curry favors. A perennial stockpile. Vintage heels. One leaf to another whispering as it descends; come on, come on, come on. What’s the worst that could happen? There’s always more road ahead than behind. So many learning experiences, so little time.
Historical inaccuracy. Personal politics.
I have seen you in your Summer skin. I have held you up, not back.
Firecracker.
Bombshell.
Diamond.
Where are your slippers, girl? You have to tread lightly now.
