They’re short and wee, so here’s a two-for-one!
And so I stand, alone in my room.
I watch the breeze from the fan
Ballerinas twirling in their skirts.
My room smells of something raw.
Can’t figure it out.
Meanwhile, my gaze keeps wandering over to the snow globe on my bookshelf.
It is from Las Vegas.
It is tacky and plastic.
I feel like it holds a secret for me.
But can’t figure it out.
So instead I go down to the kitchen and chew on an ice cube.
– Saratoga Schaefer, Written in 2009