April 2011
3 posts
Cities breathe. We lie in the dark. We wait for the dawn, then toil on machines of oil and dust. At dusk, the new day is over. Dusty children play hopscotch in the soot and ash of yet another sunset. Our sun setting, the muted light filters gently through our selfish maze of exhaust and rebar. Stars vanish under the low, yellow hum of sodium. We lie still; waiting for ourselves to be made right by...
A hand rests lightly on the bottom of the leather wrapped steering wheel. Reclined in a bucket seat, he sits waiting, sunglasses at night covering half-closed lids. The soft but persistent sound of rain, washes out the sounds of the city. He waits with the radio turned down, loud enough only to mark the passage of time. His cock, the only thing not torpid. It strains against the zipper of his...
