H-E, back in Nebraska, was so happy to be one of the boys. She knew she wasn’t one of the boys, she was a girl, or a woman, or a woman clinging on to this girl who pleased her father, so much, her father used to cuddle her on his lap.
Working out in the sculpted fields of corn, wheat, flax, cantaloupe, watermelon, dear dandelion wine, with a winging silent love for being able to jump for joy,
Both Nebraska and OK Okhaldunga, down to the jumble of a jungle, Oklahoma, riding a wild horse, singing a singe, a lion, sits it down, to scold, reprimand, going off to the love a far flung, aloft, face burned off.
Spam of Human Affection 
Leave a comment