My Job
My Job
Slobbery rubber ring
coated with sand
She holds it, her prize
the dare in her eyes
Grains on her nose
globs on her chin
lobs it in the air
digs fast, dust flying
Buries the donut
excavates it again,
a surge of sand behind
Grabs it—her mouth
a smiling grit cave
If I dare
extract the ring
with two slimy fingers
to ferry it home,
exactly where
do I put it?
The perennial problem! At least they were; it’s been a while since we lived this scenario but our hearts are with you in your commitment to serving Jazz’s needs. ❤️❤️