I borrow the rainbow and reflect the sun, but the smallest of touches means my journey is done.

A scented disruption from the body above, Spray with love and fondness from atop.

Curvy keeper of crumpled correspondence, clasping chaos into calm. Like Aunt Mabel’s biscuit tin, always holding things together.

Urban legend has it that an intruder broke into a hotel room, stuck this in one of his orifices, and took pictures of said act. The travelers later discovered the disturbing photos on their camera afterwards.

I stand fairly straight, though the wind may bend and break me. But some people draw me upside-down, and give strange names to me.