Monday, April 8, 2013


Of all the girls
waiting in line,
Gloria was the
only one with
purple corduroy
hot pants, which
made her think
perhaps she did
really have a
chance. Plus she
wanted it more
than any of the
others. Their
hearts were not
splattered all
over the sidewalk
and their soul-
strings were not
dangling from
the velvet rope.
Of all the girls
in line Gloria
did not have the
best hair or the
most confidence
but she did have
that thing, she
had it, that way
of turning her
insides inside-
out and taking a
bow. The line
crept forward.
Gloria coaxed
out the destiny
that throbbed
in her spleen.

(prompt from Elizabeth Treadwell: write a poem called "Gloria")

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