a glass of lemonade the rain the first led-sinker thudded against the pane of molten glass it is hot Tropics-hot and the old man on the porch with skin blotching like a ripened banana sits sucking on a tart glass of lemonade the next rain-drop splatters like a bug against a windshield translucent in death (I have nothing more to do than to document the inconsequence of my existence with bargain basement poetry) and to navigate the madness of a human I love unconditionally Lightning cracks the flat glaucous sky a mile away and the old man suspended in his web of madness sits cackling like a crow laughing at all our Earthbound fears
Posted on: Wed, 25 Jun 2014 19:40:24 +0000
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