Wednesday, April 28, 2010


When you close and lock the door,
it makes me angry.
Maybe you think you're locking me in with you,
just the two of us,
whispering secrets and eating graham crackers,
the way we might have done when I was still a child.

You probably don't realize you're locking me outside.
Maybe you don't realize it's you that is shut in the closet,
while I give up searching for you and go outside to play.

Either way, I'm growing frustrated with your behavior.

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M is for Margaret, who was swept out to sea...