NoteRecites
Always Sunny Days In The Shade
Since early youth sunny days has been an essence unavoidable to my sense of recognition
since I have been getting my hustle on, and wearing a smile in public in renowned area searching for a way to get
through the commute without out fear I put on face mask to camouflage the public figure that I am
noting since early youth my chaperone waves to paparazzis, and fans to move out of way for being
already in my way to confront me with questionable remarks since early in youth attainable to me always is
to stay calm as I put on my prescription shades makes me almost unnoticeable to followers
relentlessly calling to find where I am for an autograph or co host on some kind of show since early in
youth my celebrity assistant advises taking measures keeping safety-n- health whenever with
residents in public while available I have keeping me shaded a retractable canopy -n-umbrella
safeguarding me from flashing camera lights and intensive rays of sunshine
since early in my youth camera man says have cast members stay in shade we’re not ready to roll-’em
to prevent messing up their makeup , also my costume wear before I am ready to start my script on stage
Poet: Stanley Lyte
Co: NoteRecites
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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