Sunday, August 15, 2010

Two Hundred


A moment of tense calm--tendrils of a new storm brush against my legs seeking soft purchase on my body. The first strike will fall sometime before noon. Rustling in the bed above me. My five day roommate knows the score in his sleep, but by morning he'll have forgotten the warnings and moved on. The lake is beginning to overflow with blood.

No comments:

Post a Comment