Poetry
09/06/07 22:11:51 | 0 Comments
The smell of wet, rotting grass introduced the new day
to Daniel Garland; a cool cigarette cracked his heart
a little. So, ready for a brand new look at life, Daniel
left his farm to town.
Whole fixtures of people were snail crawling around town.
Gay ass gallantries with balloons painted blue and green
seemed to shift his focus around to good ladies. Turned around,
his telescope he held in his hand rolled into focus.
A fly wizzed out of her mailbox, the girl he saw. Niceness
and...
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