Procrastination
It’s like you’re wearing gloves;
nothing that can be traced to the source;
the hand dips in the water and then lifted, leaving
nothing but ripples; no identification. “I was here
but now I’m gone.”
through fog in early parking lot,
pre-dawn tinting everything else with an adolescent blush;
watercolor suspended in the air. “I am here
but I won’t stay”
Ariel
Nov 1, 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment