Tuesday, September 22, 2009


"rosaries have never been my thing, really"

the floral imprint
graced her skin
and the cross,
oh! the cross
swung silently between her breasts.
she did not want pity,
nor a smile.
she was walking
or maybe she was driving
she no longer rememered things
like that
because the destination was all the same.
somewhere on a street
she was to be at work
so soon
and to wear that blazer
and to comment on elder's dress
and to sympathize with wealth's laments.

10 minutes til showtime.

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