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Max on the max

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

Ramada

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Don't Breathe 3/17/2021 12:21 AM PST

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Ramada



She was named "Ramada"
after the inn where her parents had slept
during the waning days of their
Las Vegas honeymoon.

It was a moniker more suited for a horse
and only served to remind her
of the inn.

Yet it afforded the vantage point of being
different
and much more.

Deliberately she wore mismatched clothes
in off-putting combinations of color and pattern.

She relished the notion that she could readily be mistaken
for a forgotten child,
perhaps even something as rich and rare
as an orphan.

Orphans had no obligations to anyone
other than themselves.
Her early gained independence from the age
of eight had been a very worthwhile pursuit.

More than anything,
Ramada preferred her own company,
yet even more so she desired the simple pleasures
of a drawing tablet, a good book
and her own imagination.

Her teachers may have called her bright
but Ramada knew better.
Bright was an adjective reserved solely
for light bulbs
not for people like her instructors,
who, at times,
could also be, like light bulbs,
quite dim.



legal Copyright May 31, 2016 7:07 AM PST
All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Meloo (Ramada) Melissa A Howells Straight from her Tilt-a-World
all ideas, prose, poetry, rants are the expressed
legal property of this writer

thank you kindly for reading, says Ramada.....





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