Apr 23, 2021
2 min read
Through the Haze of Gravel Dust
Prose Poetry
Walk with me and my yellow Sunshine Labrador through the haze of gravel dust. Why they had to race down my side-road is beyond me. I mean, take it slow when you’re high, Neighbor. Waste of today — masks — both cloth and paper, a baby bottle of bourbon, empty. Next Door app blowing up with thoughts — anti-liquor store, and I can’t agree more. My ditch is your trash can. My weeds are your…
