The clouds, stacked neatlyon the counter of sky. There
they sit, one on top of the other,
waiting for me to put them
away. I say, Not my turn; Mom
thunders, shivering them onto my
head. Whoops. Mom made a
mess. Wanna bet the next time
she uses the paper plates, instead?
(c) 2009, Karla Dorman
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbz-xJEpTQ0
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