Can't look.
Still there.
His Bogart face
Oxidized
And flaking away
Like rust
Under chipped nails,
Worried along
From the bench
At my stop.
Still there.
She crouches
On a ledge and
I can't look, I tell you...
The sun
Bleaches teddy bears
And people.
Pray your shade trees,
Desert.
Battleships are just mountains.
Lonely things,
All.
COMMENTS
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BLOODLIFE
08:53 Aug 19 2010
Great work, fantastic punch. You really excel at discribing a feeling.
"The sun
Bleaches teddy bears
And people."
Perfect!