Wednesday, October 3

Girl at The Hot Dog Stand


  Everyone is either a bird or a cat
She said

Her eyes were perfect black coin spheres
and I said  Which am I?
But really I meant
   Which are you?

  I’m a bird  she said,
       and  You’re a cat

We paid for our hot dogs and stood at the silver bar
slick with the melted ice from
  soft drink sweat

With the very tips of her fingers
                 she picked small bits of bread and dog
                  and breathed the morsels in

I tipped my head back
                and guided my dinner to my lips
        -half of it gone in one bite-
           then held it gingerly with one hand
            like a mouse by the tail







pen and ink on paper, 2011




*the poem is nothing final, just recently worked on, so i thought i'd share it since i came across this illustration of mine from a while back that sort of coincided with it. i would do this illustration much differently now but i still like painting fabric and textures like that. but holy hell the hair makes me cringe

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