stepping sharp over glass shards

The strong morning light on the dirty buildings making them shine like temples.

which way is the wind

She’ll slather Love’s lemon lotion all over her own bony shoulders.

what are those flowers called?

Who wrote this?

You’re thinking how Jesus called you two weeks ago.

on a rock by a waterfall

living their small large lives

dress forgotten on a hook

that Beatles song \ was once so far away

popcorn, cigarettes, coke

sound of the prayer bell

coffee stain on lace

Anne Lamott

her lip gloss rubbed off

muddy roads to walk on

sweating into her Sunday bra

a sure prescription for getting into the worst sort of trouble.

My lips were chapped.