Tuesday, August 25, 2009

15 $

'her name's Miracle'
the old woman says. she's large
and panting beneath

a bright beating sun.
Miracle traces her tiny thumb
across my thigh while

she hugs me, smiling.
I wake from my reverie,
sun-drunk and drunk-drunk

and watch as they drift
away from me, down the beach,
my money in hand.

1 comment:

east side bride said...

i love you. you are so weird.