Poetry Blogs (active)
The hand reached into the pocket and pulled out lint. Expecting the worst, the lint was a better gift than anticipated. A cop asked me if there are any sharp objects she should know about, I say, "no", knowing that I have dirty tricks up my sleeve. I am arrested. It could always have been worse. So could I. But here I am. Jail Cell. Alone. No friends close. No bail. Alone. Surrounded by humans ...
Monday 3rd September 2012 7:29 pm