Monday, January 07, 2008

1787.

With his glasses off his face, each streetlight was a hazy moon, the searching of a flashlight, a huge communion wafer held out for his tongue to take.

1 comment:

ed said...

he'd stood on the side of the road with his thumb out for well past three hours now. all he'd gotten was a thumbs up from a girl in a red chevy pick-up.