"I found a mirror that described me perfectly today.
She was about 5'6. A breeze away from breaking
and a stare as strong as her fathers, so I took to her eyes like devotion.
I read her lips like two maps and her sister looked everything like her.
We were conversationalists.
Twenty-two with a voice I could only comprehend in a forward lean
but it was loud enough to hear broken bottles leading to her bruised cheek
I could only glance at imagining the pain in her waist.
She's had a while to learn how to switch."
So, today was an early day at the bookstore on campus. Had no idea what was in store for me here, but I was soon to find myself neck deep in costumers and question that I really had no answer to. Some more important than others. I honestly couldn't catch up to the stillness in glares so I looked down for most of these empty conversation (which now have been scripted to index-card sized papers at each register) and broken wallets....I repeated this story daily. It came down to simple clock work.
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