Cream

There’s a building the sun shines on
creamy
in the late afternoon.
I can see it from my balcony
where I sit reading.
And it makes me happy.

Then I bury my face
in my arm
the fleshy part
lying on the railing of the balcony.

This makes me happy too.
To taste my own substance.
How solid I am.
How real.
Creamy.

Anna Maria Ballester

real reader, fake librarian, writer of stuff, fangirl, social media enthusiast, erratic duster of shelves

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