stony

Dear The End,

Oh, you last splash of ink in the eyes. I see you're rolling pebbles down the side of your lonely mountain again: one is lodged in my friend's nasal cavity (an x-ray rovered his face's planes and broadcast the neon asteroid on greenscreen monitors). Another nasty spray of stones now paves the entrance to my student's girlfriend's brain. She won't tell her parents that she just failed le bac (she was too dizzy to hold her pen). She hasn't told them that she'll have surgery next week, either.

Why these tenderlings? They've known (maybe) one great love apiece, have barely knifed their names into the picnic table. I'm blind to what you're up to. But I want to dance them a softer bargain.

Not Yours,
WP

fell on 2007-04-04 at 10:52 a.m.

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