dandelions

Dolls, who you dress up in pink and white, 

dolls, who you take to the park or on a flight, 

dolls, who are made of plastic and cloth, 

they are always so girly, never unique or even goth.

The icy Penobscot wind cut through me like a blade as I stared at the crow, now just a crumpled shadow in the snow. My dad’s shot had silenced its call, and it lay there, broken and defeated, a symbol of my own helplessness.

I jump in my friend's car.

It's filled basically to the brim.

The area is small and compact.

How did she fit this many people in her tiny car?