Wicked Witches

The bark on the back of his shins never really got hard. Pressing on the buttons. Pulling on the levers. Change has abandoned us.

He would cry. The dry tears of a desperate salesman. Only scars left to peddle. He would limp. On feet made of cardboard. Insisting it wasn't raining.

The thimble never quite fit. The needle always had a hard time hanging onto its thread. He didn't need blankets. Nor clothes. The cold places are idle. We are always moving.

The dog chewing its tail. Caught at last. After years of running in circles. It's such a terrible disappointment. To get what you want.

I was myself so long. Then suddenly I was her. And we were strangers. Franctically rubbing empty lamps. Scouring the past for a wish misplaced.

Determined to prove. Discover any indication. Of choice.

The wizard. The curtain. A squeaky tin man. Still searching for the heart he never knew he had.

The wizard. The curtain. The ruby slippers. That lie to her. Convince her that the witch is defeated.