you can't remember where you parked.
every level looks the same.
you repeated blue seventeen
over and over again as you left
for the store. but maybe it was
green. maybe the number was eleven.
it's cold as you search.
up the ramps, down the ramps.
you wave to the others, also
lost, that you have come
to know.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment