In the month of June, heat that lain beaten on the pavement (heat that had been trampled by wayward smokers moving like aimless irrisdent slaves) climbed slowly to my window and whispered:
"Everybody's wearing a disguise
To hide what they've got left behind their eyes.
But me, I can't cover what I am
Wherever the children go I'll follow them." BD
Posts
2 comments:
girl! i wait all this time for you to post something new, and what do i get? i NEVER know what you're talking about! Quand commencerez-vous la chose d'écriture qui fait sent?
re: boo's comment: LOL
interesting piece here, a. is there a continuation?
Post a Comment