The night has razor claws soused in horror. It slinked down back roads and alleys with a murderous man. “Listen,” they said “don’t go out….don’t…
Month: July 2018
They flocked to her in droves “Cinderella,” they called. Their ardor, canned heat. “Give us a glance from your golden drapes. Come, be our Poppy…
In mid-July the heat reverberates makes the thought of comfort dull my footprints trail the thick blades of St. Augustine grass the smell of Confederate…