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Element of the story (Simile (Because the way you grow old is kind of like…
Element of the story
Simile
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one.
Only today I wish I didn't have only eleven years rattling inside me like pennies in a tin Band-Aid box.
It's an ugly sweater with red plastic buttons and a collar and
sleeves all stretched out like you could use it for a jump rope.
The red sweater's still sitting there like a big red mountain.
Because she sees I've shoved the red sweater to the tippy-tip corner of my desk and it's hanging all over the edge like a waterfall
I put one arm through one sleeve of the sweater
that smells like cottage cheese
I put one arm through one sleeve of the sweater
that smells like cottage cheese
it's just my body shaking like when you have the hiccups
and my whole head hurts like
when you drink milk too fast
I want today to be far away already, far away like a runaway balloon, like a tiny o in the sky, so tiny-tiny you have to close your eyes to see it.
Imagery
But when the sick feeling goes away and I open my eyes, the red sweater's still sitting there like a big red mountain.
I move the red sweater to the corner of my desk with my ruler. I move my pencil and books and eraser as far from it as possible. I even move my chair a little to the right.
I put my head down on the desk and bury my face in my
stupid clown-sweater arms.
My face all hot and spit coming out of my mouth because I can't stop the little animal noises from coming out of me, until there aren't any more tears left in my eyes, and it's just my body shaking like when you have the hiccups, and my whole head hurts like when you drink milk too fast.
The red sweater
Repetition
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two and one
Birthday
Eleven
Not mine