Caught In The Stream
not poetry. not fiction. a life, and something in between.
Wednesday, January 08, 2014
dead of winter
The dead of winter, very alive, glide on. White hides
in the inside of the treads they don't leave. The sparrows've
fattened up, but I see no sign of food or love in the flattened
Styrofoam cup the sidewalk's smile has become.
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