©2023 michael raven
some paranoid days have fingers peeking around corners winking and blinking thinking i know something is going on like frida in my pocket tap-tapping squared metal edges, joint compound flaking and falling to shag port wine and jangled and the face in the door with his old man mouth moving in circles laughing at the footsteps up the stairs and slapping black steel rail with the lady in white concubine in tow behind someone i memory broke a long time ago come now, don't be shy don't you cry we will play a game of you windows calling, and so the night, hiding under until the stroke of dawn laughter of stone men down the hall
2 thoughts on “a game”
Such lovely descriptions here. My favorite line is “like frida in my pocket
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Thank you. I found myself slightly haunted-feeling after writing this one out, recalling fragments of something in sometime, but not enough to think of it as anything more than mist.
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