white truck in red-brown mud.
emily knowing her poems were bullshit.
every word of every conversation with you.
fruit cut so that each edge of each piece was rippled.
stumbling on uneven bricks as strangers walk toward me.
and, that girl in my class whose face is the most beautiful, in profile, ive ever seen, but whose face is not nearly as spectacular from any other angle.
posted by Anonymous @ 12:55 AM
