Wind flattens rental sign and
fucks gait and pace.
Unhooks blue tarpaulin
over erratic lightshow
of nip and tuck place.
Stink of skunk:
remainderer.
Pretty girl goes on:
"Did he think she was on her own?
Should we like kill her or something?"
Trees pulled up and out
like some idiot joke;
an almost subject work.
my god what an opener. HELLO.
ReplyDelete!
Cheers, V. You should have seen that wind going at it.
ReplyDeleteThe snatch of dialogue captured like a bit of something brittle caught in the pandemoniac clatter of the wind.
ReplyDeleteI often note down such things but never know what to do with them. This one stuck; something about the steady, blank delivery of the words.
ReplyDelete