When I moved to the Interior, the wonderland of wet greens, I met an explorer years deep in her expeditions of sunken ships and newsrooms, lunch counters and single, spy moms. A researcher combing through libraries, she was writing codices to the future hunters of relics.
I became a tagalong junior and spent friends for it, friends I liked. That was the cost of the bounty as was a dollface or two.
We were constantly and violently shipwrecked and our soap operas were salacious. The blonde one could never be a lady killer. The mustached one we turned into a villain. We were powerful overlords. We were the deciders. We swooned over brunettes but they were hard to come by in our villages and townhomes.
We scared ourselves in the mystery but we were brave. We survived on desert islands. We starved and swam the channels and went to college periodically. We covered a million miles, and vanquished. We were celebrated in a thousand books.
These poems for NaPoWriMo were inspired by a poem I did years ago for my friend Michelle after hearing she passed away, 30 poems for inspiring women connected to me. The title now says "33 Women" because the poem to Michelle poem had already been written as well as two prologues I posted March 31.
See Krissy here! http://www.marymccray.com/33-women.html#krissy-jayne.