Marionette
She was in the lobby with a bunch of other kids
just inside the door as I walked in.
I met her face to face. She was very young.
I stood looking at her face, eye to eye, as she was as tall as I am.
She had the face of a doll. Innocent, still, unblemished.
She smelled like tangerines.
I felt a little uneasy and I heard myself take a deep breath when I asked her
what was going on.
No. I didn't want to touch her, but I wanted to capture her image and my memory of her in
some way.
My mouth was dry. My face flushed.
I would ask her to tie ribbons loosely to her wrists and ankles and play the part of a
marionette.
She would have to practice some of the moves,
but no costume or makeup would add to the wonder.
Copyright © Thomas Pitre | Year Posted 2007
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