Song of Cindy

Michael Channing

her car was a giant pumpkin she hollowed out one halloween night
and she never drove it more than two miles--that's how long the vine was
she lived in an old barn and kept a garden of dead flowers
she collected string for her hundred cats, every one of them named kitty
a dark brown mole grew on her left breast, and every spring she would cut off the mole and give it away to some lucky guy
she made her own clothes, and she made her own books, and she made funeral wreaths for people who hadn't died yet
she never finished a crossword puzzle, but she kept them all in a scrapbook which she would gladly show you if you if only asked
she grew up in a bar and told dirty jokes and had tattoos and got along with pretty much everyone
she carried loaded dice and cheated at cards and would tell anyone willing to listen how bad she was at games
she talked like a sailor and laughed like a child
she had a place for everything but could never find anything she wanted
but every day she finds the patience to deal with how weird i can be

Main       Stories       Poems       Lyrics       Comics       Essays