Knock Knock Nicolle Elizabeth
I was a dancer in the ballet before they threw me in the circus. Dance,
puppy, dance, they said to me. I tap tap tapped my little heart right
out onto your doorstep but you were halfway across the world and had
pinned a note on the door, back at five in five years, went to find
her. I tried the hoolahooping and the elephant riding but it was really
the tightrope walking that got me. My center of balance is excellent
due to an exercise involving one ice skate on a typewriter letter R
key. I started kissing the ringmaster's wife and he didn't like that
very much, mostly because I ended up on the tightrope wearing some of
her makeup and our budget had nothing to do with costume overlap. If
the investors had seen me in her rouge, I think we all would have
gotten the whip meant for the tigers. The caged caravan trolley was
nice, I didn't need to pay for gas. I missed the fruit soup they gave
me in the ballet, and I certainly missed the roses. I looked up at the
moonflowers on the fence but they were nothing like the Brooklyn roof
swing, not that there's anything wrong with that, they were just
different. By the time I got back to the ballet, they had changed the
sign on the door and the woman in my dressing room said, "You were
expecting somebody else?"
Nicolle is pleased to be a part of Wigleaf. Thrilled,
baby, thrilled.
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