15 March 2013


Weeks pass...

Flag hanging out of a window curling and uncurling in the wind, dog tongues, fruit roll ups, curl uncurling. The image of a red towel as revolutionary signal in the book I am reading, it rolling out of the window – a sign.

Feet, ankles, knees pressed together, red hair, book open, straight back.

Ink spill tree branches multiplying against the blue, later against the pink and orange.

Billion pound panini.

Bread gets cold and heavy, a preponderance of wet sandwiches for the guests.

Drunk too many times, I can tell by the stumble of my boots against the concrete. Hollow heels reverberate in my spine. Other spine tingling things; new smells of new people.

Cheese cracker grape cheese cracker grape.

Sometimes all my friends are crying.

If asked I would tell all my secrets. 

I trace my finger around the embossed one six six four, around the rim of the wine glass, praying for seduction. The table outside is a good a surface as any.

To not be the widow, hunch backed and smoking in the corner of the yellow sofa, clutching the purple hot water bottle perpetually to her chest.

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