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Sort of like black coffee, although
it fluctuates. Sometimes there are
little flecks of gold. If you could
make those coalesce, turn your
aura more toffee than coffee,
things would be different. Let me
give you some exercises….
Everyone needs a mystic aunt for a
surrogate mom. Sometimes it’s hard
to believe she’s only thirty-four.
I swear she must be reincarnated.
Some ancient witch, burned at the stake,
returned for a shot at redemption.
WHATEVER SHE IS
Witch or gypsy,
I don’t have time
to think about it
now. I summon as
many gold flecks
as I can, hope they
turn me toffee-er,
point myself toward
Ms. Carol’s room.
Cherie feels generous
today, or maybe
she’s got something
to brag on. She’s
waiting by her locker,
which is two down
from mine. I don’t
