Friday, September 13, 2013

fire

There's a
fright-lurch
panic-sink
shock-cold
fear-shake

latched on me,
that usually temporary grip -- usually
usurped by logic-survival -- is
sleeping with me tonight.

I watched the girl from down the road
throw up on a tree, her
little sister's bedroom
crumpled into their
lounge

the oranges and yellows making
silhouettes of the palm trees
better than any sunset could

Friday 13th, you've out-
done yourself.


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