rough draft
cheesy, yeah. oh well...
quiet
i met my god on the metro
one night when i'd forgotten
to bring a book to read.
(not jesus, he was sitting
at the far end of the train,
reading a pamplet splattered
by his name; his face
a cross of anger and of shame.)
no,
just a reflection
dancing in the windows.
then,
the doors opened
with mysterious words.
5 comments:
oh. a handsome devil, was he?
depends on who you ask.
[grin]
it's a good one. (esp. 'cos it's short.)
mine have been too verbose. i have a feeling i'll never get back to my jackson pollack rhyme.
ah well. the muse is fleeting.
fleeting or fleeing?
there is a time and place for verbosity. not something to be frowned upon right out.
oh i frown upon it, sir! i frown upon it most vigorously!
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