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The Firehouse is Green

The firehouse is green

And you are there,
munching cashews in the corner,
the evil taste of death.

The furniture is backward

And I am running.
Prison bars break
And we leave the dog behind

The rocks are hollow

And we race in go-carts.
Up spiraling hills
And cotton candy colored slides

The woods are black

And we sit against purple walls
Yellow limbs clatter
Caught in the echo of glitter

The lab is orange

And spiders crouch in mason jars
spinning multicolored webs,
smoke rising from their lids.

let me know what you think

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments


  • Childsight
    September 23, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    haha, nI really like this one. especially the line about the cashews


    • willowprincess
      September 23, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      yeah i thought you might like this one. and you probably appreciate that line more since you know me.