Sewer water trickle-tickled the little girl’s toes.
The rock was uncomfortable;
she moved over and sat in a wet patch of wildflowers.
She picked one (she thought it might have been purple),
gave it a whiff, and pulled her nose up,
Humph, definitely blue.
The rock caught her eye again—
it looked smooth within the tears created by the moon,
slow-dancing down over Weeping Willow’s shadow-cheeks
and into the stench.
She sat sideways, and smiled;
her Stars-and-Striped My Little Pony’s mane
were caught in the frills of the new birthday skirt:
“My Little Pony, where is Mommy and Daddy?
And why is Uncle James wearing the party clown’s costume?”
My little Pony didn’t answer;
there were tears in its diamond-studded eyes.
“Uncle James is just the best, doncha think, My Little Pony?”
Uncle James answered that question.
words and photography by Ramon Ramirez