The President is handsome. Aren’t they all.

May 28, 2012


A Quickie In The Shade

Eves dripping. With heat. Dog in the street. The hair over his paws. Stuck to the tar.

She was born. Overweight. Spend her adult life. Worried about her ankles.

A quarter. Lay on the sidewalk. A snail crawled over the face of the Queen.

The scars from the war. Were still waking him up. In the alley. Between those condominiums that were being renovated.

The President is handsome. Aren’t they all.

The t-shirt is stuck to my skin. Won’t come off. Without the use of an Exacto knife. My tears are turning into steam. And the way she looks at me. Is the last thing I can afford.

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