Wednesday, February 09, 2011

Soiled Township in the Midwest

This humid summer night has an unusual weight
sprawled over the city tonight. It’s like when
you stop to talk to a woman who runs
the break line at the local Winnebago plant.

Nervous sweat runs even over sunglasses.
Cats are jumping from roof to roof in search of

the rat that took on the moon.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Great little poem, man. DDL

11:56 AM  
Blogger Neil Kelly said...

Thank you, David.

12:28 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home