The shadow of a paper airplane
at 2 a.m.
its lost pilot
I am so freaking tired
of street minstrels
at 3 a.m.
The cats and the deer
and the moon
stare at each other
round 4 a.m.
Comes traipsing
toward the first
cold bus
at 5 a.m.
a diva
telemarketer
sad as a rain divinity
No comments:
Post a Comment