November 6, 2012 § 1 Comment

This story begins at the end
of a moonbeam,
yellow circle of light
warming a midnight patch of grass;

with a loud laugh and a wrong order
at a greasy diner
known for their milkshakes and cheese fries;

the day before Christmas,
standing in line at the grocery cashier
torn between materialism and hope.

Where I’m from, people are too hungry
to think about poetry
but stories always find other ways

so this one begins with
my head on her lap
and a sky
in a color I can’t quite explain.


Where Am I?

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