Saturday, July 28, 2007

By Jaime, a member of Brand New Aspiring Writers

A chipper, albeit pert,
“It’s custard, ma’am,
not ice cream”
on the side
with our milkshakes.

Clarification and caring
disappear, like us around the corner,
as we drive away,
me giggling
and making lewd gestures
with my straw.

Read more from Jaime McDougall at Write Anyway

1 comment:

writerwoman said...

This poem has a nice lightness to it. It reminds me of childhood.