212 24 11
|
the farmhouse
of your childhood
lies
|
26393
|
"Farms line the road, the perfect plots of land lined up, a game of checkers."
|
1811
|
the door openedhe came inopened the fridgethought of hershe was on the roadbusinesshe grabbed a beerthe tv didn't workhe couldn't watch the news it was snowingshe was gone
|
9353
|
"...We leave crumbs for a serviceable trail, from 6-sided mirrors to our cotton tongues..."
|
6453
|
pure as church bells swept out to sea, drowned
|
366193
|
Stop in truck stops, browsing cassette bins; Creedence Clearwater Revival, Simon and Garfunkel, golden oldies from back before you were born. T-shirts and coffee cups with logos of the nearest city hanging off metal hooks in white Formica pin board. The r
|
9875
|
had half my head shaved like I lost a bet.
|
13598
|
Minutes later he drove back
|
