Calisthenics, Week 6

Gregs bump'd neck swollows the salty sea air. His deep grey eyes watch the pelicans wing-dance in across a back drop of light blues. His backyard is a sandcastles open range. Scurring crabs like to squeeze hard on objects that can dye the grainy waste crimson red. His mate, a  firey red-head from South Dakota. Grace is her name. A few crayons short of color. Mostly her coat is of a pinkish tint. Spots, mostly tan-brown, cover her ghostly white body, shading it a little darker. Angel kisses their called. So her adopted mom said. Maybe that's why she's called Grace. Grace hates angel kisses. Not the kind imprinted from her scalp to her big toe, but the limber kind. The one's gymnasts do while lying on their bellies with the head throw back, toes reaching. Both wanting to touch. Greg colored a picture of her in positions like that once. All in water colors that ran into each other. Although, Grace can't ever tell which angel kisses she is supposed to be seeing. Then again, her eyes only allow in blacks and whites. Greg resembles a cartoon-like man in her glazy eyes. Not to be confused with Greg's lazy eye, which roams around at the most inconvient times. Like when Grace said "Smile" for a scrapbook candid. Not that it really matters, having those default eyes. Greg and Grace harmonize together each iris by never asking, always assuming, the other has smudgy 20/20.

Greg's bump'd neck swallows
salty sea air. His deep grey eyes
watch pelicans wing-dance across
a back-drop of baby blues. The back
yard, a sandcastles open-range. Crabs
pinch best on those objects that dye
the grainy waste land crimson red. His
mate, fiery red. South Dakota's own
Grace. A few crayons short of color.
Her coat mostly tinted pale pink. Spots,
tan-brown, set up camp over the ghostly
white skin. Angel kisses their called. Not
the limber kind elastic gymnasts do. Greg
colored a mural of her in positions bent
outside-in like that. All in water colors
running into each other. Grace can't
tell which angel kiss is hers. Her eyes
allow just blacks and whites. Greg
remesembles a cartoon-like man
in her glazy eyes. Not confused
with Greg's lazy eye, that roams
around at most inconvient times: like
when Grace said "Smile", an oranment
for her scrapbook candids. Not
that it really matters, having those default
eyes. Greg and Grace harmonize each
iris by never asking, always assuming,
the other has smudgy 20/20's.