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Oct 2020
What a spicy meatball of a life
This curious little salamander body
That is birthed and breathes
While the moon continues to orbit overhead
And space debris wink in the night sky.

Our individual unique little faces and souls
Born from millions of protein lego pieces,
And worn by family and circumstance
And sometimes pure chance' caprices.

What a deliciously weird solo recital,
These pink-and-green,
Everything-in-between
Fleeting lives,
In these absurdly floppy flesh costumes,
Bound by a slippery fable of time and place,
Of colour and race.

Some chapters are full of pain and struggle,
As we dance on the precipice between
Textbook norms and rebellious liberation.
But what fascinatingly quirky,
And gateaux-rich our little short stories are -
Sometimes swollen and aflame with sadness
Then extinguished with timely humour.

This time we are gifted in history,
Whether the first journey or our souls 332nd
We have it to taste fresh bread,
Chat to bus drivers,
Stroke the perfection of a pompom dahlia
Talk baby to the neighbors dog
Laugh heartily at our shortfalls
Pop pimples,
Sob out the pain in our body
Smell old books
And laugh our way to double chins.
Spicy Digits
Written by
Spicy Digits  32/F/Australia
(32/F/Australia)   
173
 
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