Rain-drenched roads kick up blinding mist, Eight hours – construction, accidents, snarly traffic ignoring neon: Adjust speed for weather We arrive at five – multi-lanes
He is the planner, planning routes and stops, measuring distances, researching particulars, focused on specifics I am the organizer, organizing a mass cull, distribution of
Outside, clouds hover, heavy, threatening. Inside, men haul – china cabinet, weathered couch – accumulation marking years, exiting under duress echoes fill in the spaces
Viewed from the shelter of Fog Harbour’s luxury, Pier 39, a serene snapshot vessels tethered silently waiting, a single gull bobbing nonchalantly by sea-inspired dishes
Freedom is four hundred and fifty square feet of moveable tin, wheeling down the highway, destination unknown. It is long walks through exotic forests, where
On hold immobilized face pressed against glass pane repelling wind gusts stirring dust clouding vision forced to wait patience tested on hold.