No. 25

August 25, 2014 § Leave a comment

We walked until we’d left the rain

and found a flag the color of twice-washed sky.  


She pointed out an airplane

and we disputed the possibility of Superman.


We sat on curbs,

laid in a stranger’s grass,

walked a cracked and crumbling line

with wine in our hands,


heading for the home that became –

too soon – simply a house

walls we were leaving.


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You are currently reading No. 25 at Roughs & Beards & Nonchalance.


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