Sun like geraniums creeping up her legs, make "it" shine like a vivid childhood memory that lurked in a strange corner of your brain, waiting for the ultimate death to pounce
The solar panels reflect in the wet, cool desert at dawn
She twirls around, trampling on the flowers one by
one
laughing wickedly
or innocently
which is the same
in a child's mind
I would like to beat her for it
But instead
I take snapshots of her
snapshots that will never see
the light
because I was
overexposed
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