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poem for the pews

And at the time, in my fifteenth year alive but my fourth in the church,
I would have been glad for distraction;
some long savory eleven year old girl or what's it,
with small sprouting breasts
like showing through her shirt
And longish hair all reddish
but not like mine, no.
Much less.     And her walk
like much older a woman,
of nineteen, I think.
This I noticed.
Five rows ahead of me and mine
there sat a he-she of fourteen with a nose full of slime,
curly brown hair and thin wire glasses, obviously scented
like awkward puberty;
she who was toppling in upon herself
and her humanity, I can say now, looking back. Flipping her
bible every which way, just like she was told.

7 Jul 06

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Oscar Wilde would be jealous that you've said it better than he.

Except for lines 3 through 6 -- too convoluted to bother with.
 — DianaTrees

Convoluted is a good description of your writing style, you're good but try making the voice natural, keep it tight. Measure each word's worth.
 — unknown

it's like a clowes cartoon
 — onklcrispy

the more i read this, the more i relaize i've seen it
 — onklcrispy

 — unknown

A little self rgarding but strong and i have been to that churchy place where surpression og feeling becomes a way of life.
 — larrylark

 — unknown