Dick Jones’ Patteran Pages
Where once I slipped like a minnow
in between legs, eye-level with fags
and wedding rings; where once my
fish voice swam in the mill-race
of their laughter, now I watch brief
dust rise from bare boards and listen
to the ticking of a house settling onto
its bones.
—-
This entry was posted Saturday, November 28th, 2009 at 9:54 pm and is filed under Smorgasblog. 
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