with his silver spoon,
hitting the shell of this hard
boiled egg.  I fracture like
a broken leg. Splitting off in

misshapen jagged pieces
he discards, like a pair of ripped
leotards. I'm just a chip off
the old block, a weathered plank

from a floating dock. A wood shaving
from a cedar tree. He scatters me
like the autumn leaves. I've worn
so many coats my colors are flaking. Peeling

like paint, these curls blanket the ground,
sticking to blades of grass like pollen
fallen from the sky. Polka-dots dancing
pirouettes on his tie.