When she hit you back
you didn’t see it coming. Your swagger
got knocked sideways, shaken down
to a stumble
that broke your sweet high.
It’s a long way down when you have
spittle running down your cheek
and your girl’s
just walked off
with the last of the weed and a curse
flung sharp over her shoulder.
Rachel Westfall
October 3, 2011
Lost Clarity
2 hours ago
1 comments:
Treacherous woman. Treacherous.
In the black alley, I was reminded of
"the dark of the moon on the sixth of June in a Kenworth pullin' logs." Which might be suitable for your area.
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