cold air
hot steam
Have you written anything new?
They ask
My words are still here,
I hope yours are too.
The vibe is deep lavender skies and bugs fluttering under the lamplight
It is fluorescents lighting up the pavement so it looks purple too
Cars shining in the night like an old movie or a normal evening, here on Earth
300 words a day
I admit the well feels a little dry
I’ve fallen out of the habit
And my last two entries feel like lies —
They’re totally unfinished
Hot and steaming like just-poured French press
Lines tight like the vertical ribs in my tank top
There is a tiny rip in my pants
I am visions of gold and plaid
300 words per day and I’m already beginning to stray, wondering if I reached my…
Oh, hello
I didn’t see you there
But now I recognize you
With your face freckled
And curly brown hair
Though you may be overlooked
I lost a dear friend today
He had four legs, four hooves
A long tail, and a mane
The kind of fellow you might ask
Hey, why the long face?
My barista said, one late afternoon
Hey J, how are you?
I’m exhausted, I reply, I’ve been up since 2
2 in the morning?
No, dude, the afternoon