Sharp rocks hurt like Hell, but
I keep walking to make my way home.
Not to the trailer park. Trailers
don't hold up too well in violent storms.
I want the brick house that will say "Heyyyy,
that is not a storm, it's just a bad dream, the one you always
feel will come get you." She says it louder than the tornado's train track
which run down the middle of this gravel road. The
one that has the sharp rocks. That hurt like
HELL!
About Me
- Duane Brenner
- "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it from going to sleep." Salman Rushdie
No comments:
Post a Comment