amphibi.us

And I arrived here

All washed up

Broken now, poor as I was before

But older, less chance of making the future I swore I would

Washed up

Crawl up this shore of broken words all crashing down

I’ll scratch out my first epic poem

On a cardboard sign, homeless

‘Will write for pussy’

And these words

Like junk, shot up in between my toes

So I can still wear short sleeves at work

Take naps in the conference rooms

When nobody’s looking

© Shannon Peil, 2009

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