Triangle geometric sucker punch at three uneven sides, prime number dance. Catastrophic geometric panic attack, when your mind feels like a Picasso painting cut up into a million pieces. I haven’t been the girl in triangle pose in a while. Missing yoga. Can’t seem to make it work at home…yet(?). Mosaics painted over pretty on our life walls mixing up dream with reality and illusion with solid ground. Muscle toned sailor eats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles. Triangles are great though because you can keep cutting them and splitting them in half. Paper football, snowflake paper arts and crafts. Roof on a drawing. Beak on a bird, flying around – or waddling like a penguin. Diagonally split square – or diamond? Rings and designs and Ms. Alboum and how I did’t understand it, didn’t get it. Making up the test after class, or asking for extra tie, which ever it was. As much as I love space I’ll never have the credentials or the brains or the stomach to join NASA. Or the drive. But I still love it and support and think it’s cool. Painstakingly mopping a cool, sweaty brow. Icicles freeze on the mustache of that sailor. He’s flexing his biceps like Popeye, making his anchor tattoo move around. No pipe though. White uniform with the navy blue strip, stripe. Fruit Stripe gum and the hype and sudden disappointment at lack of flavor.

Author: Roe

30. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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