Popcorn

After a night of snow (always a fitful night for the clouds, I think, tossing and turning, trying to coat the earth evenly with their powdery delights), when our driveways are indistinguishable from the white and more white around them, my neighbo

I want to sing like my best friend

Who effortlessly makes people sway with her voice

I want to dance like my dance teacher

Who makes every move look graceful

I want to write like my favorite author

"That shirt is cute! It's super cheap!" Says the girl at the mall. 

“Oooh, I love this, what a steal!" Says the girl thrifting a few months later.

My city, my city

It takes many forms

In people and plants

Vines and beggars

Angry men and sour women

The worst of the best people 

And the best of the worst

Poets and great minds

the good girls club

where the happy girls cry

and the strait A students have some down time

where the perfect act falls

and the sad girl comes in

for a moment or two 

Steam rises from the chimney
with a G-rated "come hither"
into the cerulean blue sky.

You feel drawn towards it
like a moth to a porch light
on a warm June evening.
"Come hither."