Holding a prayer between our teeth,
we
slid
down.
Knees scraped, sand in our shoes.
Across the phone line, other voices.
The sound of traffic;
my hips, my shoulders
become highways.
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 5:06 AM UTC
Holding a prayer between our teeth,
we
slid
down.
Knees scraped, sand in our shoes.
Across the phone line, other voices.
The sound of traffic;
my hips, my shoulders
become highways.
