on my arm stand
like soldiers in ten rows,
like wheat fields
as the wind whips through

and blows.
He made the hair
on my head curl
like a plate of green fiddleheads,

like the colored spools  
of grandma's threads.
He made the hair
on the edge of my eyelids flutter

like butterflies in a garden,
like an actress that starred in
a musical play.
But his feet were made of clay.