vinyl maxim

cracks in the white

words on my red

t-shirt leave tracks

color trickles through

breaking letter islands

into smaller white scabs

aching to be peeled

away so the red

cotton rivers can flow

where machine washed

lingo grows old

and then goes

Lunch – Hold the Bloody Tongue Sandwich

Today at lunch, I rested on cool stone steps beneath the blazing sun, mostly because of the rather gusty crosswinds and dry air. I fell asleep twice, I think, and didn’t manage to bite my tongue in the process, which I usually end up doing inadvertently waking me from my naps with a painful startle. I relish lunch breaks when the weather is just so, and I can go out and do a little daydreaming, a little mediating, a little getting away from it all.