Alas, the light is red.
                                         She's not here,
            Yet getting vertigo on the overpass again.
         Feeling a definite moment of wierdness here.
I'm scribbling bad song lyrics and a literature live-blog.
   Someone else must be getting vertigo somewhere.
   My book does not deserve to be dropped like that.
          Guy having coffee just looked at me funny.
                              Can't walk and write.
                                                                         Alas, the light is green.

The End

14 comments about this poem Feed