Small things 5: Tan

Tan

I will be the white half and half to your black, iced coffee. At first, when I pour myself into you, I am like an upside down tree and then light a slice of marble pound cake.

Nevertheless, with a little swirling of the clear, plastic cup, and some help from a wooden stirrer, we become tan, like the color of your neck, which spent many summers under the sun alone.

Mexico Part 1: The Day I Threw Up

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This entry was posted on Monday, April 6th, 2009 at 10:22 am and is filed under Joe Bunting the Poet. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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