By ZoE
Date: 30 October 1999

pure

my stuffed puma bear from when I was four
his ear torn off with a sissor (a little haircut)

his face when he isn’t speaking
lips pink and eyes closed

drinking coffee when I was eight
I was young and the street lights were warm
at the coffee bar
crossed legs in blue tights soft and stuck to me

a baby lying on pale lace

Nancy’s almond shaped face

open shutters at night

watching Christmas lights from your beat up car
drinking hot chocolate from a plastic mug

The way you showed me the water
my first day out
your eyes like blue streaked diamonds

waking up and smelling cookies in the oven

mother when she smiles at me 
her cheeks rosy from the outside

little children laughing

sugar packets we spilled on the bricks
making patterns that reminded us of eachother
I wrote your name
and if you look I think it’s still there