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Description
Syrup

You could've been completely oblivious to everything going on in her mouth. It was her sister who had the lisp. Her sister had the lips and the cheeks to deliver.

Had she said 'bling' every time she opened her mouth I'd still be doing the talking. I have the means for that. The key is bite your tongue, it tries to get away. Your teeth will chase it. Keep it down. In cowboys and Indians, the horse never wins.

She practices, yet holds her peace. I'll keep the pace. You can't keep your ears off me.

Slinging arrows, I quit long ago. You can control the cower with blanks, I found.

But it's not about picking sides. The neutral doesn't have the time or the haven. It just bites itself, sometimes.

I could turn off the charms when we were alone. We had an outdoors class for recess. Birds and bees, honeysuckle. The stamen wets itself with a syrup. Pull the inside out and find the blossom. Suck the nectar. Keep it up!

Here, I'd teach her behind the bush. The way to ride it is your right way. It tastes right.

We were two. With waters and hormones, vitamins and mineral schlepping through our cheeks, we'd been born together. So there for sentiment, sis!

We were waiting for one who'd say "I'm just a silly girl." She'd keep her palms turned to her lap. She'd fit right in.

So I do the talking for now. See, I have the lisp so bad even my sneeze has a lisp and that's when they leave, when it becomes a concern. None of that "How adorable! Will it last?"

The last woman grabbed our jaws to check our teeth.

Hunched, she turned to her side at the headmaster. He nodded his glasses under his eyes, and we opened our mouths before hers.

As she drew her lips, my sister came like the ripest.

This one didn't want even a temporary cute, but Rita's teeth could get the best of her. I turned on the charms.

"I bitch yew cin't shyine tdatlike."

It's all me. She's just easy plain, she I mean. It's her sister who's tough, raw. If I make the cut, we're all in.

We were excused with a nod no questions asked. Except one. I didn't hear it.

It's never about how she's doing, but her voice was so hoarse. She couldn't catch her tongue or breath. "Remember what I taught you." She's practicing and doesn't even know.

"Whatever you're riding on, it's never going to win."

Phew! She's wheezing away, spitting arrows of air. Her stamina flinched, a stove ignitor, a steady vibrato beneath sticking sweat. You know how oxygen does. Or doesn't is more like it.

"But we're waiting for that kind of woman," I said over her.

"The kind with arms and feet," she certained. She meant you can't have good feet without legs. "The kind who can tell us straight, walk straight."

"No, that's most kinds. We're somewhere else." Her teeth were so out of place then. They'd receded down back her throat where her tongue should've been. "We want the kinds with the forearms. Specifics, sis! The forearms are the same soft color as aft. We deserve the chance."

Rita hushed in awareness.

The dentists came once a year, hand-outs. We get a lot of that.

They talk of mouths for muddled stories of the quick brown fox rattling the tired dog. Look who we could be someday and scholarship.

"Oh, what bright young things. I bet you smile while brushing."

Taking sides is sometimes impartial. I just agree, youngly.

He passed when estate was still real and it stuck. The Homes, for old time's sake! I swear on my sister's tongue, or else I'd bite my own, no lies or fibs. Our history is forever sentiment, forever overall, always and endurably foreverlasting. Something special! I mean, the history in the making is the history that will do the making, history etc.

We're the real deal.

I'm not called on, actually. She wants pitch and stroke, stress, and out I come speeking Englage! When English is what they want, my sister can give it.

She shares her sister, and I have enough to share, but if they weren't meeting us behind the bush they were just copycats. I sprinkled on everyone's words and they're all doing it. Lots of saplings speeking the Languish.

Eventually the lisp comes to taste bad. No more syrup between my cheeks.

Our last talk was this.

"Even your sneeze has a lisp? That's not discreet!"

"Hey, you'll blow our cover."

"That's what I'm saying!"

The birch juice gets bitter in late spring, estate sales.

That's what I remember, now. As much as she'd learned the ropes, she had the diz about her - sex, spring.

"Everything's got a nectar. Everything's sweet sometimes."

This is that class on honeysuckles.

We were all inside out. They were keeping us up. We were still real and young.

Somewhere, I did ask How are you getting along? "I guess"

Description
Syrup

You could've been completely oblivious to everything going on in her mouth. It was her sister who had the lisp. Her sister had the lips and the cheeks to deliver.

Had she said 'bling' every time she opened her mouth I'd still be doing the talking. I have the means for that. The key is bite your tongue, it tries to get away. Your teeth will chase it. Keep it down. In cowboys and Indians, the horse never wins.

She practices, yet holds her peace. I'll keep the pace. You can't keep your ears off me.

Slinging arrows, I quit long ago. You can control the cower with blanks, I found.

But it's not about picking sides. The neutral doesn't have the time or the haven. It just bites itself, sometimes.

I could turn off the charms when we were alone. We had an outdoors class for recess. Birds and bees, honeysuckle. The stamen wets itself with a syrup. Pull the inside out and find the blossom. Suck the nectar. Keep it up!

Here, I'd teach her behind the bush. The way to ride it is your right way. It tastes right.

We were two. With waters and hormones, vitamins and mineral schlepping through our cheeks, we'd been born together. So there for sentiment, sis!

We were waiting for one who'd say "I'm just a silly girl." She'd keep her palms turned to her lap. She'd fit right in.

So I do the talking for now. See, I have the lisp so bad even my sneeze has a lisp and that's when they leave, when it becomes a concern. None of that "How adorable! Will it last?"

The last woman grabbed our jaws to check our teeth.

Hunched, she turned to her side at the headmaster. He nodded his glasses under his eyes, and we opened our mouths before hers.

As she drew her lips, my sister came like the ripest.

This one didn't want even a temporary cute, but Rita's teeth could get the best of her. I turned on the charms.

"I bitch yew cin't shyine tdatlike."

It's all me. She's just easy plain, she I mean. It's her sister who's tough, raw. If I make the cut, we're all in.

We were excused with a nod no questions asked. Except one. I didn't hear it.

It's never about how she's doing, but her voice was so hoarse. She couldn't catch her tongue or breath. "Remember what I taught you." She's practicing and doesn't even know.

"Whatever you're riding on, it's never going to win."

Phew! She's wheezing away, spitting arrows of air. Her stamina flinched, a stove ignitor, a steady vibrato beneath sticking sweat. You know how oxygen does. Or doesn't is more like it.

"But we're waiting for that kind of woman," I said over her.

"The kind with arms and feet," she certained. She meant you can't have good feet without legs. "The kind who can tell us straight, walk straight."

"No, that's most kinds. We're somewhere else." Her teeth were so out of place then. They'd receded down back her throat where her tongue should've been. "We want the kinds with the forearms. Specifics, sis! The forearms are the same soft color as aft. We deserve the chance."

Rita hushed in awareness.

The dentists came once a year, hand-outs. We get a lot of that.

They talk of mouths for muddled stories of the quick brown fox rattling the tired dog. Look who we could be someday and scholarship.

"Oh, what bright young things. I bet you smile while brushing."

Taking sides is sometimes impartial. I just agree, youngly.

He passed when estate was still real and it stuck. The Homes, for old time's sake! I swear on my sister's tongue, or else I'd bite my own, no lies or fibs. Our history is forever sentiment, forever overall, always and endurably foreverlasting. Something special! I mean, the history in the making is the history that will do the making, history etc.

We're the real deal.

I'm not called on, actually. She wants pitch and stroke, stress, and out I come speeking Englage! When English is what they want, my sister can give it.

She shares her sister, and I have enough to share, but if they weren't meeting us behind the bush they were just copycats. I sprinkled on everyone's words and they're all doing it. Lots of saplings speeking the Languish.

Eventually the lisp comes to taste bad. No more syrup between my cheeks.

Our last talk was this.

"Even your sneeze has a lisp? That's not discreet!"

"Hey, you'll blow our cover."

"That's what I'm saying!"

The birch juice gets bitter in late spring, estate sales.

That's what I remember, now. As much as she'd learned the ropes, she had the diz about her - sex, spring.

"Everything's got a nectar. Everything's sweet sometimes."

This is that class on honeysuckles.

We were all inside out. They were keeping us up. We were still real and young.

Somewhere, I did ask How are you getting along? "I guess"