i stand in line masked and six feet apart,socially distant from them, the otherthe…
This is your ten:limbs like weeds,all nerve-endings,eyes that calibratewhich shades of…
She looks sideways, shooting a baleful glimpse at the confluence of wry fumes that grab her nostrils…
he can’t see that pencilbut he knows I am writing in my mind.he can’t read that poembut he…