Benjamin Posted November 17, 2012 Share Posted November 17, 2012 night patrol rounds parapets of bullet pocked graffiti the old moon snipes with a new thought of little children skipping-- close all the windows batten all the doors hide in the kitchen down on all fours hey you little buggers lets have hush rent man's coming but he wont find us-- taut fingers on cold steel the green shroud lights his face and he doesn't hear the report Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted November 17, 2012 Share Posted November 17, 2012 Reflects a far-too-common anxiety, noting the coinciding dances of life and its adjunct realities. Thanks Ben, - Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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