The sky, black as the eyes that stare at it.
Star-studded and as seamless as new programming.
I look down, the streets molested by fluorescent splotches --
red ribbons of memory evaporate from the lights of motorcycles,
gurgling by.
A homeless, pregnant woman, in a bar, once told me,
"Forgiveness is letting a prisoner free, then finding out that you were the prisoner."
The sunset looks like an explosion of emotions
no one understands, yet.
The smudges on her lips
look like the bruises of an orphan apple.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
The sky, black as the eyes that stare at it.
Star-studded and as seamless as new programming.
I look down, the streets molested by fluorescent splotches --
red ribbons of memory evaporate from the lights of motorcycles,
gurgling by.
A homeless, pregnant woman, in a bar, once told me,
"Forgiveness is letting a prisoner free, then finding out that you were the prisoner."
The sunset looks like an explosion of emotions
no one understands, yet.
The smudges on her lips
look like the bruises of an orphan apple.
Ashland, Wisconsin
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