Crosswalks create honking
which piles on top of honking until the street is one note of honking within honking. Her teeth are porcelain representations
of perfect oral hygiene. My relationships continue like dodoes blissfully tumbling down a cliff.
One lick and we’re back together on
a bright orange couch in an otherwise unfurnished basement. I am a Fortune 500 stock being passed back and forth. My net worth
is a set of freshly ironed linen sheets.
Weather is meant to fill silence. When one chair is pulled back the rest follow until there is a
caravan of ignored syllables chasing the light.
