23 December 2005

Dashing through the ____.

Zipping down the sidewalk a nerve among nerves, as guilty as anybody, I see a man ahead on the street corner trying to stop passersby, a bundle of pamphlets under one of his arms, his free arm proffering.

"Hello," he says, when I walk into the six feet around him. He calls after me, "Do you read poetry?"

"No." I'm already past him.


No?

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Iga Wyrwal
Iga Wyrwal
YOU'RE ON NOTICE!
Why begrudge me a little fun. And must you chew gum.
Iga Wyrwal
Iga Wyrwal
Iga Wyrwal