A darkened tone breaks
the pink landscape.

A sleeveless vest
torn and frayed.

A face,
amongst others,
out of lace...

An exit wide open.

A back turned and walking away.

Cutesy fluff from wall to floor,
from ceiling to door.

Not a smile to be had.

Winds blowing me down...

I’ve come around,
witnessed,
marked up,
and then left.
(In my usual way)

A rain filled cloud
swept by
without releasing its load.

I remain dry,
but my ‘Plush Girl’,
I go on by...

Ignorant of what it feels like
to be inside
your denim disguise .