15 February 1996
I have this little heart hidden in my chest.
It is red.
Or that is what they tell me.
I must never remove the lock to look inside and see.
So I examine the wooden box; the varnish is still so new.
Not too many scratches or cracks.
Just carry it around, they tell me.
Watch where you're going and do not trip and nothing will go wrong.
Well, I tried so hard -- especially at first.
But then they kicked me and threw rocks.
Dodge and run and try to persuade them but no one can hear me.
I know something is broken inside because it rattles,
as if at the next step it will all burst open.
And how do I know that nothing's fallen out already or been stolen while I was sleeping?
I can not always watch my box.
Once I tried prying it open with a crowbar, and now the lid is warped.
But something red did seep out.
Not much, and it stopped when I hugged it close to my body.
And the next day I sewed a small patch on my shirt to cover up the stain,
so I can not really show you.
Just believe me when I say that it was red.
Though not bright and shiney like a wagon,
but rather weathered and worn like the moon will be.
Copyright © 1996 Charles Fry
forgotten memories of being burned at the stake sweet dreams sharing hand-in-hand the stranger hidden courtyards holding You princess happy day loneliness fragile, handle with care my small trip to the cement factory dedication this record is for You the day that I cried Last night I woke up under my bed. my silver Dancing shoes Man my heart tears. the three things strait jackeght like you abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz Fire cooks me Princess Alexandra: A Little Story cats up cat twice sweet rain water little children my heart How blind I am in wooden glasses. I know she's crying cause it stains her voice, Dear Family, I pound at my heart We run away from the ice cream truck purple sunset J. Elephant so i walk up to you with this the Soul queen so, you say that i do not speak window dear sweet old Ordinary i am a Harp