Verbal Photographs 2

The corners of her eyes dissolve into a sea of crevices. Her smile slips through the cracks.

The smell of fresh pineapple seeps through the confines of a cheap sandwich baggie. The tropical sent flirts with my nose as she sits next to me, I eye the baggie. Slices of pineapple slither in their own sweet nectar.

She sinks into a seat, propping her book bag on the legs of a chair. She seems hollow. She smells like at least twenty fresh cigarettes and floral perfume. Trashy and fascinating.

He tugs at a fray near the hem of my jeans. Twisting the soft thread between his thumb and index finger, focusing on working the tiny piece of denim out of its hole.

Never been brushed, frizzy, fuzzy, fluffy, reddish yellow hair.

Stiff yellow ribbon caught up in smooth blonde hair. Bent into a bow, she tugs at it leaving it lopsided, sad.

Neatly stacked rows of purple sweaters disrupted by a rogue sleeve hanging over the edge of a table.

He says he feels that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He folds his long brown arms into knots, cringing, bending almost all the way over.

Sometimes my Chihuahua looks like a baby seal. His perky ears lay neatly against his neck when he sleeps. He curls into a ball near my hip, and hides his nose with his paws.

Strands of hair in the sink, wrapped around the stopper. Slick strands slipping in and out of the drain teasing the faucet.