Geckos Produce Nostalgia
Before the dweller of the streets
Drew pavement to her bare feet
She walked a cracked and creamy sidewalk
Holding the straight black bars
For lift off.
Geckos ran like wild boar across
Cheap kitchen tile.
She’d squeal and leap away
Swatting at them with the broom.
Snarling and foaming at the mouth
Her curls frantically falling
And always tangled
She crouched low and readied herself to launch.
Perhaps one day she’d go back.
She’ll never again hunt fresh lizard
Or have a victory driven sister shove her
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