like the ocean
like the sky
like my 1976 celica after an old boyfriend dented and scratched it and I had it repainted
like a carolina tarheel
like my favorite light sweater
like the eyes of my oldest daughter when she was an infant in her great-grandfather’s arms
like a sapphire
like berries for sal
like suede shoes in the 60s that you had to stay off of
like a jay in the trees
like the moon of kentucky
like eyes crying in the rain
like midnight
like dress uniforms
like a slurpee at your local 7-11
like marge simpson’s hair
like the body of an avatar
like a lonely fall weekend with a cold wind blowing and no motivation to be found
Tori Burris Inkley
6/25/16
Tori Dreamer 