"forbes" poems
I can’t wait to be a hundred;
turning over the thoughts
and plots, of Caledon
floating on Zimmer inserts
and dusted Florsheims
three steps forward
in a dream woven
summer afternoon
Through the barn doors
and bee keeper flats
assimilating voices
from Sachems
and Forbes
and Hope Healers
coming and going
as the countryman
comes and goes
You can feel it
in a place like this
the 3 in the tree memories
of Allis Chalmers
and combine parts
of Sundrim poppers
and shallow carp fields
of patterned lawsons
and fading caulk
(on the ripped and rolled
frontier seats)
it’s a wishing well
for the peddler
and bold hydrangea...
both peeking their way
through the rusted
grinders wheel
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
late night by the holland sill
white framed and frilled
alongside the meadow
down by the grand
where cat fish
and cow pies
and silly yellow bees
make their stay
there are swings now
and empty barns
(with quiet corners
and broken walls)
echoing chambers
that speak of the past
...and little dogs
not big ones
the plaster cracks
and wheat sways
from a warm west wind
it’s about time
for that late afternoon pour
you know how it cleans the soul
old percy would say
and flanders
(the holder of those pigs)
who fed us good
with sow and milk
as we plowed the
dusty fields
into the
hot summer sun
i can still hear the screams
of river shore dreams
the grand slams
and flints run dry
the barks
and breaks
and bends
a world past
with forbes
and dolls
and crab apple trees
think i’ll take a trip
up the back lane
they’ve cut the brush
and opened the line
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
A seventies child
Born in Wales, one of the four
Countries of The UK.
I remember brown as the colour
of the day.
Fabric embossed wallpaper
all the neighbours names, who married who,
who was carrying on, the alcoholic, the beaten wives,
Even, get this the peadophiles (or kiddy fiddlers as was known)
Dai the milk, Mair the bread, the shop of infinite items.
Rugby practice for dad, baking for mam
(Cake and babies) gossip over the garden hedge
Fish on a Friday a Sunday roast, hot sweet tea.
Bubble and squeak, post delivered before you
left for school. Mist on the mountain, dew on the grass.
Welsh valley life, sounds idyllic
but scratch the surface and a darker colour
than brown emerges. Petty squablings leading to
familial feuds, the Williamses don't get on with
the Joneses, and as for the Pritchards, less said the better.
School, local, no not for me. I was sent to a Welsh
School, taught and learnt the language denied to my
Parents by English politics. Cat amongst the pigeons there.
Did I think I was special? Ideas above her station. That's what
the neighbours say.
Well, you all had the option.
Dr Forbes FRCS
Delivered babies buried men and women
Loved by all, especially his lollipop sweets.
I wasn't a child to get ***** or rip wrapping paper
off of gifts, I liked to go under the stairs (like Harry Potter)
and read. I left the dirt for my sister born 4 years later.
Then in 1982 came my brother, tidy my mother describes it.
'74,'78,'82 poor dad to have to wait I say!
More pubs than chapels, more walking than driving
more rain than sun, more music than ever was sung.
The '80's came, and we had strikes, no electric, candles
toast made with a toasting fork over the fire.
No mines, no steel, no jobs.
Picket lines, dole queues, women in work
latchkey kids, Thatcherism, ******* times.
Falklands war, IRA bombs, Royal weddings
Tory rule
But, the fire in the dragon never went out
and Tom Jones still sings his heart out.
Cymru cysglyd gwlad y gân, deffrwch
nawr, dyma'ch tro.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
Let's dance in style, let's dance for a while
Heaven can wait, we're only watching the skies
Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst
Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?
Let us die young or let us live forever
We don't have the power, but we never say never
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip
The music's for the sad man
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?
So we livin' life like a video where the sun is always out
And you never get old and the champagne's always cold
And the music's always good
And the pretty girls just happen to stop by in the hood
And they hop their pretty *** up on the hood of that pretty *** car
Without a wrinkle in today 'cause there's no tomorr'
Just a picture perfect day that lasts a whole lifetime
And it never ends 'cause all we have to do is hit rewind
So let's just stay in the moment, smoke some **** drink some wine
Reminisce, talk some **** forever young is in your mind
Leave a mark that can't erase neither space nor time
So when the director yells "cut," I'll be fine, I'm forever young
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?
Fear not when, fear not why, fear not much while we're alive
Life is for living, not living uptight, see ya somewhere up in the sky
Fear not die, I'll be alive for a million years
Bye-byes are not for legends, I'm forever young, my name shall survive
Through the darkest blocks, over kitchen stoves, over Pyrex pots
My name shall be passed down to generations
While debating up in barber shops
Young Slung hung here, Shorty, the ***** from here
With a little ambition, just what we can become here
And as the father passed his story down to his son's ears
Younger kid, younger every year, yeah
So if you love me, baby, this is how you let me know
Don't ever let me go, that's how you let me know, baby
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?
Slamming Bentley doors, hopping out of Porsches
Popping up on Forbes lists, gorgeous
Hold up, ****** thought I lost it, they be talking ********
I be talking more **** they nauseous
Hold up, I'll be here forever you know I'm on my fall ****
And I ain't waiting for closure, I will never forfeit less than four bars
Guru bring the chorus in, did you get the picture yet?
I'm painting you a portrait of young
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever young?
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
Liz Taylor was a fuckpig.
Forbes used to call me and say
"Let's double-team this dumb *****
And we would double-team that dumb *****
Give'er a real goin' ovah.
Sometimes in a limo.
Sometimes on a motorbike.
Really tore that thing up...
.. and today we rededicate this park after
one of Hollywood's finest. Ladies and
gentlemen may I introduce to you "The
Liz Taylor Grand Canyon National Park."
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
The Corp, even life itself, is a test.
The Corp, life, a test of humanity,
a test of values, ethics and morals.
The Corp, life, a test to learn,
a test to live,
results to apply.
Pass the test, receive your reward,
your honor,
your pride and professionalism,
your character.
Take what you learn,
Experience, ...
... share.
( Dedicated to Mr Thomas Forbes. A great friend, a co-worker and former Marine, ... Semper Fi ) 1/15/2008, ... FAM © 2/20/2013
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
. She'll
take
off
her
clothes
for a little bit of coverage
Ride windows down
in the rain like she loves it
*What she'll do
for a hundred likes
on a website*
in real life
Is something project X like
her best nights
Her friends lie about her importance
Beauty cant get you on a Forbes list
But her dreams only
exist when attention shuts out pain
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Starving his people so that they eat off dumpsters is not enough;
Causing more than 3,000,000 of the best and brightest to emigrate is not enough;
An annual inflation rate of 60,324% today (source: Forbes) is not enough;
Rejecting at gun point foreign food and medicine to aid the sick and starving at the borders is not enough;
Trampling on the Constitution and establishing a dictatorship is not enough;
Billions of dollars stolen from the Venezuelan people by cronies is not enough;
Destroying hope, progress, and a leading world economy is not enough;
Today government thugs are literally running over protesters in armored vehicles.
A small group of rabid-left apologists in the U.S. telling us to ignore the man behind the curtain in an insane attempt to defend the indefensible must face reality.
Maduro must go.
His Marxist dystopia must be dismantled.
The Venezuelan people must regain the right of self determination through free and fair elections--not the sham elections all Communist nations use to show close to 100% approval of the ruling tyrant.
Enough is enough!
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
megacreative poetry crew personified by poetic devices (we the best exploring poetry industry) Words that doesn't sound strange to any ear, words that can be called one poem heals all.
Listen to these words made from punchlines and their cousins figure of speeches immaturity fall.
Blessed are the ones listening to the poem written by the hands that got the touch of the situation.
Megacreative Poetry Crew (Personified by poetic devices) Rocking back n fourth whining side to side into the bigger picture of literature as big as the important use of rhymes in a poem brews and cooks magic.
The magic that is the ear bud to your ears.
The magic that is infused with words that are born from soothing figure of speeches that's their mothers.
We heal with metaphors.
When the pain comes again it won't be like before.
The wise doesn't just spit but before that you got to be sure.
It's sad how they don't want to learn wisdom but when you do you are labelled as the biggest flop.
One's life is not like an influenza, you can't always have chest pains and cough.
As it will move you it doesn't hurt to dream of being on a cover page of Forbes.
Ofcourse, morden men doesn't shove wives with chores.
With words, the mind and soul resasitation.
Holding the mic to melt the written punchlines on the blessed pages, you got to love such situation.
Wisdom shows up just as we throw words on the white surface with red lines like a sangoma throwing bones on a mat created through tradition.
For us write words that unlocks wisdom to your mind that's as entertaining as theatre.
Poetry is alive in us.
Water it, ignoring such soothing words into your soul it will be as peace destroying as a witch.
Just as we play around the pages with a pen its the first stage to one's life changing, but as we spit words Personified by poetic devices Rocking back n fourth , whining side to side one is healed. Megacreative Poetry Crew (personified by poetic devices)
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
Ya’ll **** (Myself included, I said everybody, didn’t I)?
Forbes, a magazine for rich wannabes, says:
85 people control half of the world’s wealth (yet, nobody obsesses)
In my rural hometown alone,
that’d be the equivalent of a disembodied ****** hole
calling all the shots from a platinum throne inside the town hall
“Keep plowing! Keep selling! PLLLLLPPPPPP!
Sop up my **** with all those Benjamins, and bring the Russian ballet in!”
In between **** and brain rotters, everyone else watches ******
with his handsome silk hat on,
shake hands with the petty bourgeoisie in suits
Little lap dogs
licking up all the slimy brown Franklins
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Scared of beautiful
I want to be the next president of United State
Yet am scared of press conference
I want to have the highest number of followers on twitter and Hello poetry
Yet am scared of people comments
I want to be the richest man in the world
Yet am scared of appearing in forbes magazine
I want to be the next UN secretary
Yet am scared of popularity
I want to be the next Aristotle
Yet am scared of reading
I want to have a lovely and happy family
Yet am scared getting marry
I want to be among New York Times Best Selling authors
Yet am scared of writing
I want to be the next footballer of the year
Yet am scared of playing
Scared of beautiful
World without confidence
Scared of beautiful
A world of fear
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 6:13 AM UTC
Got up to turn the pages
Let up so I can burn my wages
I spend time like Its money and I am a Forbes CEO
Just when I think I can supersede myself the confusion begins to glow like an expected sunset on the drive home
I smile at an elderly woman leaving a tacky hotel wedding in a wheelchair, cheap dress draped with an oversized man's coat
It's cold in Philly
And the sharp bending wind whips my soul
Like a favorite eerie movie I inevitably watch again we fight on the phone and you say it's everything that I've done
I sit down with my coffee and smoke a cigarette
I don't gamble with numbers - but the chances I get
Far away in a jet soon to tel aviv
banks' charge conversion rates for currency
the door opens and closes
the places my heart goes when I remember you have to say yes before you can learn to say no
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 2:57 AM UTC
I loved that achey crane you used to call your neck
I used to passionately kiss that achey crane
maybe massage the middle more
so its 80 year contract with you
could be properly fulfilled
without having to take advantage
of the *******
warranty
again.
******* God and Angels Ltd.
free marketeers who planned our obsolescence.
give me what I paid for
you self-righteous Forbes ******
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
varicose veins keep him awake at night.
he sleeps standing-up so he weeps standing
up. dreams of a lava-cool fist-bump make
me sure you're the hottest girl since sliced
wrists dripped to form faces on a Cairo
sidewalk. we can't believe you joined us
for the night on such a tell-tale schedule-
one in which each moments fruition was
confirmed to the utmost. it wasn't much,
but it was enough to get on the cover of
Forbes and purchase the entirety of your
love-
it wasn't much, but it was enough to see
the forest for the trees and the eyelash for
the computer screen it cumulativley
observes like a pervert watching the
recently widowed
watch themselves
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
did you ride a dirt road to work today?
no, your tires glided across
the pock marked *** holed streets that are paved
and if you feel that you bought the cement, asphalt, and tar
then I guess we all owe you a round of applause
because you did this all by yourself no help right
can you eat a sandwich while waiting for the bread to rise?
or maybe your parents and mine grandparents and the like
paid a fair adjusted tax rate so we could have these streets and lights
the hospitals to heal and schools to educate
filled with people who work jobs you didn't create
and the socialist programs that make you so sad
have you been to a socialist country? we don't have it so bad
it's not fair you scream
the redistribution of wealth you haven't earned
that's their problem why are you so concerned
have you elevated your status and YTD to a quarter of a mil
or are you just like the rest of us just crawling uphill
there’s not a single person you know that sits on the Forbes' list
and if there is then this question might make you ******
did you do all you could for the greater good
or did you focus your off shore funds on your laurel resting brood?
is your deductible charity limited to the parish of your choice?
it's not like the whole world should be privy to your voice
if you read these words and think loaded with liberal bias
opinion is within our rights but maybe you might just
review these criticisms and see if they apply to the life that you lead
would you still co sign or even agree with the grand ole party
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 11:59 AM UTC
5/1/2014
I’ve never met a woman that knew what Forbes was, or had a subscription to it at the age of 18 anyways. First thing she said to me when she sat down was a marvel at the fact that i was 20 and actually right in front of her. We talked about Champagne rose and the middle class the first 5 minutes we knew each other- I told her she was a woman after my own heart and I unbuttoned the top of my collar. She smiled tightly as if there was taffy stuck to her front teeth, or something, and she asked me didn’t I think she looked a bit young? I told her not really but sometimes, but I thought most of the time she looks 13, but i kept that to myself, and that’s when I noticed her eyebrows. They were perfectly squared and colored in perfect mocha. And then my eyes trailed a bit down and found her eyelids- it’s as if she had glued skinny leather black strips above her lashes.
“I love your tan,” I remarked, unbuttoned again. She stifled and told me she was an islander. I smiled and told her I love dark skinned girls. She blinked a green eye and touched the blonde of her hair with a chubby finger and i asked what she planned on after school- she told me human rights law, and how she hoped for a short dinero packed marriage. I asked her if she wanted to go to bed with me and she smiled and said no and stood up. I told her I could respect an opulent woman like that, and her fingers soothed down and up the hem of her genteel Chloe blouson. I said bye and finished her glass of Cristal.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
No matter the colour of the skin
the shade of eye and the silver Mercedes
parked in angular arrogance
or the pin-striped suit and embossed briefcase.
This is all external. Internally lies a rot
that seeps through your emotions and spills
out your conversation of stocks and shares
and deals awaiting in the forest
of your investment. Money kills.
The lines jangle and rise with regular
asterisk displays of sharebrokers
meetings with profound number crunchers
all racing to the billionaire list on Forbes
unaware that at home the little
boy is playing with matches
and momma is looking out the window
watching a man across the street
meddling with his mistress'
bra straps. You would never ever know
how she feels in her own narcotic ecstasy.
Each day you are missing
she is rowing a boat to a
nowhere shore
where weasels wait to devour
her destiny !
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Started out doubtful,
Lost at sea like my boy fievel,
Partying every night yet I was spiteful,
Mouth full of things yet was not thankful.
Always wanting more,
Yeah I was a carnivore,
Was so rich yet so poor.
Had everything yet was empty to the core.
Smiles as phony as some real fake doors.
Hoping one day I would be on the Forbes.
For I yearned for the illusion of grandeur.
For I was tired,
Tired of being barred,
Barred from what society deemed popular,
But popularity only has so much allure,
It certainly is not a cure.
In fact I would say it’s more of a cancer.
That becomes as obsolete as a blockbuster.
And I can no longer be an actor.
Faking smiles and shaking hands with gators.
Or Catering to dictators,
For I’m an innovator,
A lyrical operator.
And a educator,
That spits lyrics with high energy like a particle accelerator.
Yeah I am unlike the rest of yawl common denominators.
U gotta understand,
Ain’t no way to truly comprehend,
What it is like to come from nothing,
And make it into something.
Yet still remembering,
Where one came from.
When one barely had any income.
Gotta stay humble man,
Because tomorrow it could all disappear fam.
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 10:54 PM UTC
See it's a strange thing,
"self made men"
It's the rage thing,
"forbes front page t'ing"
A majority that's pacing,
voting for a one percent
that in return enslaves them
My girl used to laugh at my jokes
now I'm broke and she ******* hates 'em
I look for aspects of success and then I stage them
be sure to colour background facebook page 'em
My rent doesn't reflect my wages that's inflation;
that's what I get for living so close to the station
In this pompous student city covered in glitter
and these ditsy Corpus Christi *******
be getting quicker and quicker and quicker
Don't know how they can afford the liquour
pre-drinks before Ballare movin' on to something bigger
If I see another site with student accommodation
on the hoarding, I might as well go sell my ****
Start ******* because I'll never make it in this town
I'm one quarter brown and I don't speak Spanish
born in Cranebridge, forced to watch others live lavish
The tourist loves it but a local feels damaged
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
Life is not easy, life is hard,
but you have the wheel to decide where to go with it,
you can have fun, share with friends,
make a changes in people's minds.
Its a free way, you and only you decide who and where you wanna be.
You can be the next billionaire on the cover of Forbes magazine,
or you can be the drug dealer around the corner.
The s choice its on your hands.
The question is
Who do you wanna be?
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
megacreative poetry crew personified by poetic devices (we the best exploring poetry industry) Words that doesn't sound strange to any ear, words that can be called one poem heals all.
Listen to these words made from punchlines and their cousins figure of speeches immaturity fall.
Blessed are the ones listening to the poem written by the hands that got the touch of the situation.
Megacreative Poetry Crew (Personified by poetic devices) Rocking back n fourth whining side to side into the bigger picture of literature as big as the important use of rhymes in a poem brews and cooks magic.
The magic that is the ear bud to your ears.
The magic that is infused with words that are born from soothing figure of speeches that's their mothers.
We heal with metaphors.
When the pain comes again it won't be like before.
The wise doesn't just spit but before that you got to be sure.
It's sad how they don't want to learn wisdom but when you do you are labelled as the biggest flop.
One's life is not like an influenza, you can't always have chest pains and cough.
As it will move you it doesn't hurt to dream of being on a cover page of Forbes.
Ofcourse, morden men doesn't shove wives with chores.
With words, the mind and soul resasitation.
Holding the mic to melt the written punchlines on the blessed pages, you got to love such situation.
Wisdom shows up just as we throw words on the white surface with red lines like a sangoma throwing bones on a mat created through tradition.
For us write words that unlocks wisdom to your mind that's as entertaining as theatre.
Poetry is alive in us.
Water it, ignoring such soothing words into your soul it will be as peace destroying as a witch.
Just as we play around the pages with a pen its the first stage to one's life changing, but as we spit words Personified by poetic devices Rocking back n fourth , whining side to side one is healed. Megacreative Poetry Crew (personified by poetic devices)
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
With filthy fingers crusted in mud,
In ignorance we blissfully rub
Precious people and meaningful moments the wrong way
Until reflecting in our catalogue of memories one day
We see their true worth, the staggering figures of what they cost
And wisely lament on our poor loss
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
The Kid saw Anne on the lawn
with a nun and a man
standing by the table
at the far end,
as he approached
he heard Anne say
who said about
an artificial leg?
Your parents
suggested it
the man said
and I have come
to measure you
to see the size needed,
you will need
to stand up
so the gentleman
can measure you
the nun said,
hey Kid
Anne called
come over here
and help me up
on my crutches,
Benny walked
next to Anne
and helped her up,
she stood there swaying,
the Kid holding
onto the arm,
all right Benny
you needn't hold her
she is quite capable
of standing
on her crutches
the nun said,
I want the Kid near me
Anne replied,
can I get on now?
The man said impatiently,
get on what?
Anne said
what you think I'm
a bus or a chair
to get on?
I meant
with the task
of measuring you
the man said,
do as the gentleman wants
Anne and stop being
so tiresome,
the Kid looked at Anne,
she looked at the man
as he took out
a measuring tape
and measured her
for an artificial leg,
she sighed
hey don't get
too fingery
she said,
Anne that is enough
the nun said firmly,
the man finished
the measuring
that is that done
he said
eyeing Anne
it will be
a month or so
before we can get you
to try it on he said,
then you
should be able
to walk again
the nun said,
thank you
Mr Forbes
what do you
say Anne?
Yea don't
be too long
getting it done
she said,
Anne that
is not polite,
that is all right
the man said
I know children
I have my own
he looked at Anne
and smiled,
she did not
smile back
but looked at the nun
and said
is that it?
The nun sighed
and said yes
and walked off
with the man
across the lawn,
Benny watched
them go,
Anne sat back
in the chair,
did you see
that Kid
see how
he touched me
fingers on
my leg stump?
Benny nodded,
**** penguin
what's she
know about kids
and him why
I bet he's got kids
who dread him
coming home,
Benny looked at
the departing nun and man
at the far end
of the lawn
in conversation,
hey Kid
get my wheelchair
I want to go
see the sea,
ok Benny said
and set off
towards the house
full steam ahead.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:14 AM UTC
Slave to the name.
The priviledge child.
You attended the best school.
Might even had a chauffeur driving you there.
It could been any of the high price universities or prep schools.
You might wear some of the most expensive clothes.
Yes, you're priviledge.
This is the only world you know.
Many things you'll forever do in life is for show.
As a priviledged child you won't be offer the opportunity to grow.
You a slave to the name.
They on the estate of the family's grounds.
And upon the family's foundation.
And constantly mention in Forbes magazine.
But as a priviledge child, what had you achieved?
You will find someone to love.
And the odds are they will come from wealth.
Although some has married the family's help.
But rules were required of them too.
Things they can or can't do.
And friends that comes around.
Only stay around until your money is gone.
Then like others they soon say so long.
And they have known you as long as you've been a priviledged child.
Affairs will come to you.
They often seems to do when wealth is in your hand.
Money always attract others when they say it never played apart.
Many professed they were just following your the heart.
Divorce will soon hit you too.
Then this will spotlight the characteristics of you.
When your lawyers and you decides just how much to give.
Cause once love walks out the door.
In some cases the family's name.
Although you were the one to put it to shame.
It's your former spouse that you don't won't them to claim it.
After all, you was raised a priviledged child.
Born free.
Live wild.
These words are just a small example of a priviledged.........
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
it was like walking outside the day after a windstorm.
The chill remained, but no remnant,
no sign showed where you wandered.
What you left behind offered the only reminder:
scattered leaves, road signs askew,
an overturned chair.
When you were here your presence was a feeling,
a touch against the skin, a stroke of hair, a breeze
intangible to grasp, insubstantial as an unasked question.
Not wishing to go off-kilter
I altered my balance, strode forward against
the current, brushed the hair
away from my eyes. And now –
the emptiness is non-empty.
The absence recalls
what was once there.
The space between cause and effect
was only a pause.
I asked a woman for directions;
she said, go down Forbes Avenue
and turn left where the 7-Eleven
used to be.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC