Your back compels us to gawk. Transfixed, we follow your flutter, ballerina. You pirouette across ponds, onto petals, symmetric, angles etched in your skin, crimson splatters vibrant, geometric shapes dance on your spine.
Watch the orange of your cape glimmer in the sun, the way your wings wave so graceful it makes them dizzy. Landing on the edge of leaves so soft as if to kiss. Then leaving again, never settled in your last spot for fear of being landlocked.
This block wants to make you show- pony, a painted toy, circus animal with playful face, each wingtip lined with rouge, each dot a place for more blush. You always run before opening night, always looking for the next street corner to make your stage.