Propped on a chair
Stirrups on my arms and legs
My head faces north
And my eyes can’t avert the sun
Nor his image in a green shirt.
I sit in between an old man and a couple.
The pregnant wife sits laid back
Her feet must be hurtin from walking.
I bleed from anticipation
Her casualness inhales the life out of me
I needed to get out.
I didn’t think I’d last the night
But here I am eyes open for another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment