Michelle Paulsen
weekends of walking into the you grow tired a strange sudden
in storms,

then there was the
question of the
rain. why
did she stick
her tongue out
in it, and why
when she ran
could she not
distinguish it from
herself? her face
in a puddle
had to be
stepped on, and only
when she stuck her
head out into the wet
night was there
silence

 staring at a naked
up on his there is something
then there was the it may be a
snowflakes are fireflies for driving in the there is a