Monday, June 17, 2013

Waiting

Every sentence had a darling. A hook of brutal honesty, misplaced in a town heralded for its lacks.

I stuffed my bill in her jar while she was making my coffee, only half looking. Just so she couldn't be sure if the hook had caught or not.

Summer here is a time of wonder. Between empty benches and short stop-lights there is only time to consider what next.