The Ant Colony Sure is Busy Today

SheToldMe it was up there. We had just met, Kinsleigh & me. Who showered that night? Steve & me D.I.D .n’t know but we do know all night, it snowed H A R D. Speculated, us two D.I.D. someone new get on the bus? or have they… always been there . …in there The new girl  didn’t like me at first… she would play R E I N D E E R  G A M E S She pointed to a crawl space above was a small white  recessed hatch “There” She didn’t even “look at it”  –while pointing.– “What’s in there?” I was nervous I was angry I was uneasy than spiteful she was, unsure of me Broomstick wielding I pushed there. This was probably amongst the more interesting bus drives  where only D.I.D I ride I pulled up a chair to reach up to there up there… was Something, one thing a pillow, stuffed  unevenly,  was my footing. She stared at it. while… laughter erupted I was pissed. what is this? a moment passed  before I joined the laughteruption Morose lifted, slowly SheGotMe....

On the nights you lost your shadow… These nights made us. A million times over, I would do it thus… I wrote you plays & songs & stories The origin of storytime, as it were . For me they weren’t in-length, shorties   But I know, for you ‘twas only a blur . Peter Pan needed Wendy to mend his shadow with stitches It does what it wants while her body twitches Writhing, reeling, & losing control, doth the perilous fight Hang on, hold fast, carry on; I think she just might ‘Twasn’t you, but your shadow I had gotten that night ‘Lest we forget the pen be mightier than the sword Stories can be tools, sometimes weapons in their own right Oh how I wish you could bail, just pull a ripcord Your face, became his face, appeared stricken with blight I was, am, always your Wendy, shall be writ in our lore Sometimes it got lonely, storytime for just me But I knew you were there, underneath acts of gore I knew you were listening, despite lack of glee From whence the host-woman cometh ?...