She is so oddly childlike

Her hands warped into painful butterflies


Weaving with her words

Hair tousled like a toddler

She thinks she is not pretty

She is not at all pretty

She is amazing

She never had a nip or tuck

Unless it was wine or a child in a cradle

Grabbing my hand

I let Papa in so he can hold it too

As if the car wash is a roller coaster ride

This Techno-world was never hers

It is barely mine but it accommodates me

Prepared by Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke

And Space Food Sticks

She is stuck

In the Era of Radio

Awestruck by human dancing stars

Vicariously living

What Do You Think?

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