Liquid Chalk
I was at a bus stop
in Newark wishing
to die,
leaning against
a falling lamppost.
Newark is nice in November.
I was on the bus
for hours I love riding in circles
glass pressing against
my cheek.
O how each person
is traveling to or from
O how each person is busy writing
the book of life.
Please, if
this is not Newark point me
someplace else
I have been alive
for forty years and don’t know
where I am going
Other Works
Tom & The Talking Chocolate Bar
by David Leo Rice
... a voice from more than two decades earlier began to speak ...
Phlegm World
by Aida Riddle
... But you left her there on her knees, / hands buried in her hair, pathetically sob sob sobbing. You left with the sherry ...