Like a zipper careening like a rocket diagonally have I gone mad?
Scratching the surface of the tracks, sparks flying- birds screaming.
My fists squeeze yellow feathers and beaks open from the trees to the
beat of the train bell. I open my eyes, and the clouds disappear.
The wind shield cracks, slithering across the glass.
But where will the marble go next?
1 comment:
Hi there, saw your note on Writers Cafe and followed on to here from the forum. Great writing, I like this a lot.
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