Swords, sounds of striking.
Clear as the vodka, triple distilled, that we drank last night
we felt bent life a poster folded into a letter envelope
a message and a picture
a photograph of a postcard that you wanted that was glued to the display stand, all the rest sold already, out of stock.
hard times, going out of business, take the rest, sweltering organs.
Downhome, downtrodden, downpour
Her whole life was a parade, no, a series of downs that always came up at the worst times.
Fake dawns and unfinished projects had eaten away her youth
She accused herself in all confessions.
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