Coco

circle: the roundedness of a

marshmallow spent too long in your pocket,

meant for my mouth; the almost-perfect

eternity

of your fingernail as you traced my collarbone

remarking how winglike our shoulders were;

I can't wait

To grow up and see

Every

Single

Opportunity

That no one

Will ever

Give me

Because I'm a kid

I haven't had experience

But only because

I've never had

A chance

I glare across the counter from my spot nestled between the folds of the brown paper bag. Stupid Gala is doing that thing again, as she has every single day, for the past, I don’t know, week?