has no color. It’s duller
than a lecture full of
statistics. And she doesn’t
have the logistics to pull it

off. Her eyes troughs
of stale rainwater infested
with mosquitos. Her nose,
a stuffed burrito, sliding in

the sauce, with two holes
that blow it off into the hot
air. Her egg-shaped head
strings a patch of honey

hair. Her lips are red rubber
bands that land above her
chin. And I, haven’t seen her
smile, since she last seen him.