The word: Majestic
In families with little kids, Car = Trashcan. Things just build up. A few weeks ago the whole car rustled with Lara bar wrappers and napkins and discarded cups and crushed cereal and receipts and hoodies and single mittens and smelly spilled drinks. Only the desperate would step into our backseat. We decided it was time for a carwash. At Mister Shine I met…
The Stranger: Shaka-Shine
His Word: Majestic
The poem I wrote:
The nose is always a problem.
This is why lying won’t work.
You become transparently
embarrassed. Like being pregnant:
You Did It. The belly gives it
away each time. The woman
holding a child in her arms
can be anybody: Nana,
nanny, a neighbor. You can moonlight
that way. Whale belly
brings her into Pinocchio realm.
The nose grows. How many of us
are made of wood? Probably she is,
people say to each other in loud
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.