It was six scotches on the rocks every time.

it feels like the end of summer camp

Words to write by.

I have nothing to say.

large, dead, flattened frog

Will you be the one to hold my secret?

The snake had once been a priest

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