she had no name
By The CanarY
a lot of time to be inside this letterbox pushing midnight margins & listening intently to the patter pitter of run out reels demanding change a lot of time a lot of time down in the peanut gallery the old men cinch their faded ties a hair's breadth closer to pallid throats & they note the knobbed white knuckles with something like a necktie of despair their voices are senile war cries raised over the memory of a junebug battlefield skipping across sunny waters to their morpheus cradles & pish posh mansions the ladies fret their kerchiefs down to veteran rags invertebrate sponges as the hero- our hero mad & free- stalks the frontlines with bated breath disaster cries the crowd in one monotonous gulp a pillar of salt for your greasy treats a lot of time a lot of time Written July 9th, 2001 © on Jul 11 2001 10:38 AM PST 0 • 10
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"a lot of time to be inside this letterbox..."