Bambi Sprocket

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Dandelion Clock

Outside,
she leans into a palm tree,
its trunk steadying her.
“Lets go.” He says,
brushing past her.
She follows him,
toeing the gutter,
and the gravel
and the glitter of broken glass.
On the corner
there are dandelions,
and she reaches for the dying ones,
made of whiskers
for wishes
and telling the time.
“Make a wish, boy” she says,
pinching the stem
and blowing gently.
They watch through blurred vision
as the seeds are swept up in the breeze
and are carried away
to somewhere
nicer.

“Did you have fun? She asks.
He frowns
and says
“Where are your shoes? ”.

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