Sunday, January 06, 2008

1785.

He held his tiny phone in his hand, turning and turning it as he worried it smooth with his thumb.

1 comment:

ed said...

he looked to his left in time to see a shadow entering the alley he had just passed.

up ahead, two boys threw gang signs from the front porch of
a dilapidated bungalow.

behind him, the sun was setting
behind the smokestacks of an abandoned factory.

if he could lose his habit, he would lose this city of broken
sidewalks and fractured women.