and i don't even have a garbage disposal.

summer is not something beautiful like that eerily siren-like call of the ice cream truck and thinking its still ok to use easy bake ovens anymore. it's become like a melting ice cream cone or sweet tea left out in the sun too long so its just hot, and too sweet. it's spoiled and old.
don't give me good gossip unless its satirical or ironic, i'm so tired of peddling it for a laugh and a raised eyebrows. even though i'm all for laughs and raised eyebrows. i'd rather be seeing them in another country or in some outfit that isn't appropriate to work in an office on campus, or while i am riding my bicycle without wind making it impossible. the bicycle i'd like to paint hot pink as soon as i get the chance.
yes, i know i'm supposed to get my work done but it's summertime and i haven't had ice cream in...weeks. (that's a lie but it was with old people so it may as well have been a parfait) i do love a good parfait though. i work out at a gym when i could run around outside or play a game. un juego. esto es espanol. i told a boy in class that i was going to fight him before the month was up yesterday. i was tired of him telling me answers to questions i hadn't asked him about conjugation from the other side of the room. mind your own spanish kid, and put that popped collar down.
i have to go to a storage facility today. maybe i'll satisfy all my moroseness with a cajun cone.
but probably not. too many calories and it would melt on my work appropriate clothes.

it's a lactose sort of fate.

when we were young
the world was made of shapes
and now it's walls.
for better or worse.
to scale or construct.
and less color than the circles
the rectangles and the stars
to fit right, this world's not ours.
when we grow up
we sell it with our crayons
those choke-safe happy little beads
to a world that lost the heart to them down--
these walls that send us on our merry way
to find our cheese.