beige and tortoiseshell trim in the continental pockets stuffed with hard candy wrappers i feel like spilling my
hot chocolate don’t care for garrison keillor i have a mouthful of dense trees pining for silence an extra duffel
to pile between me and family conversation with bar mitzvah suits and the rigors of leviticus don’t matter if we
can’t stop killing children and calling it a safety belt to strap vague peace pleas to the god of hot soldiers with
my vestment in a velvet bag inscribed in vowelless mystery i don't understand how 13 is a privilege i slept through and woke up gasping for prayer
gasping for prayer (life in a nutshell)
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