Sunday, August 3, 2008

Mimes Chime in Time to my Rhymes winter pies

A dog is pet,
runs around too excited to know what to do w/itself.
I go back inside.
He isn't my dog.

A boy comes up the stairs,
talking w/little preamble,
rambling as he ambles after,
someone called uncle who drinks
and pisses w/the door closed
saying nothing
while the boy talks.
The man goes to his room
placing the door between him and the boy.
The boy hears the door lock.
He goes back downstairs.
A man writes.
Who reads?

No comments: