Posted by Dave Bonta on November 28, 2009 (last modified at 9:54 pm, 11/28/09)

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.
—-

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