June 13, 2011

He struggled

The smell of air leaving, the sound of coffee and cigarette,

The pinch of loneliness—(a little hook behind the bellybutton).

The sight,

(not the feel)

of coins on a solitary little plate.

He struggled,

Fought the straight line of poplar trees.

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One Response to “”


  1. Fantastic as always. Hope to see more.

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