"Darlene," he asked. "What do you know about poetry?" Poetry," Darlene recited, "comes in two forms. Traditional, and concrete. Traditional poetry is ...riting that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm. Concrete poetry is poetry in which the poet's intent is conveyed by the graphic patterns of letters, words, or symbols rather than by the conventional arrangement of. Mr. Clarke came down and said hello and they left.Their car was no sooner out of the driveway than the twins came downstairs. They were grinning like it was Christmas morning and they were about to open their presents. But then, I guess that was pretty much what was about to happen. I put my purse down and looked at them.They looked like they were about to burst. But they were waiting for something. It was that something that I was more concerned with. I asked them if they knew what was going. I took his legs and leaned down between my own legs pushing him to the floor. But he came back up between my legs. He thought I was playing and came back up at me, his nose landing on my cunt, sending a shock wave into me. I pushed his legs down but up he came this time for a lick. “Bad doggie,” I teased. He wasn’t being bad he was just being a dog. My dog and me, completely quiet and alone in my kitchen, only the sounds of panting and now it wasn’t just him breathing hard it was me too. He heard the harshness and bitterness in skies words, as her brother held her against the side of the restaurant forearm across Skye’s throat. Skye was spitting in Anthony’s face, spewing names. Nick was trying to defuse the situation quickly as he knew the crowd inside was watching. Finally having them separated, Nick stood between them talking Anthony down. Skye took off up the street only stopping to flash the onlookers from the restaurant before flipping her brother off and yelling “Don’t.