Like moving to the East Village, but easier on the wallet. — Register Free
Submitted by HDGoodman on 12 July 2007 - 7:09pm.| Updated 14 July 2007 - 4:35am.
My father
Number 8
My mother
Number 7
The pens were all dried up
So I had no release
And the computer wouldn’t turn on
So I just sat outside on the gutter
And the concrete was warm,
bits of glass suck to my calves but didn’t penetrate the skin
and after a while I became itchy
so I took a walk down the middle of the road
and kept going
I didn’t really know where one suburb ended and the next began
I didn’t come home till dusk and it was getting cooler.
I had a nice day.
I’ll do it again tomorrow.
(1 vote)
before I even read this
you are a poet, you find the words for the poem so find the words for a fucking title.
cheers,
Jess
spooky and good
yes, I understand
cheers,
Jess