Member-only story
February
No more shady grays
no more cigarette mornings
I lost you in the winter
when the time was ripe.
Where will you go?
to your slumdog cities
where the trash rots
sweet-sickly in the streets.
Trolley man, trolley man
take me away!
where the starlight cools
burning sun blisters.
Land of the free,
I am imprisoned by you
I am lost in bank notes
my rent dollars are scattered.
Bury me, bury me,
bury me above the ground
in my house under my
piles of paper mail.
When does it end
my sweet dove?
When do your friends
stop leaving?
When does the man
and his blue, red,
white soldiers stop
hunting us down?
It all ends on Saturday
before the big game.
inside the picket fence
I forgot my manners.
We are animals, just like
the news anchor said.
I am a whale at the bottom
of your sinking heart.
From the day I noticed
your absence, my mouth
has stayed gaping,
my hands are empty.
