Winona

There’s something about the corners of her mouth that seem to sag like a sack of rice

Grabbed in the middle so the grains shift their weight down and to each side.

Her eyes do it too…Maybe that’s why it’s so delightful when they light up suddenly, making the whole world weightless.

She is as thorough of a friend as she is when washing dishes in the back kitchen of the sandwich shop just off of main street.

She won’t leave you with a pile of rubbish; she takes care of it before she goes.

Those weighty eyes and cheeks hold your gaze evenly, and you just want to straighten her eyeliner and take her out for an evening on a nearby planet with a cool cinema and different luck and different friends.

She could be a chic parisian girl, perhaps, or Picasso. I imagine her with a beret, and it works. kind of. Cowboy boots?

She could also be an exploding purple nebula, of course. Or a girl in a sandwich shop. In fact, she is. Or is she? There’s so much I don’t know about Winona. Maybe she can help me out with a self-portrait- I really like her art.

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Most people judge me in about 1 second. 1 glimpse and they think they have me down. Winona considers people for at least 3 seconds every time she sees them. I wish someone would take at least 2 seconds to think about her.

There’s a lot of compassion and thought behind the heavy wooden doors of Winona’s eyes. It’s so cool when a laugh or a good sleep or a trashy song at the club opens them up because the weight of the world disappears for 3 seconds and I can scarce believe it.

P.S.

This cover picture, while unrelated, seems relevant to this piece. I think Winona would approve.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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