Mass transit

I’ve got shoes that burn at the speed of light and grab cliff sides like you wouldn’t believe.

I’m so last token for the bus.

I’m that dried up bitch with novels stacked on top of one another. The curtain pull. The cable stop. Just pull it, go ahead.

Those big fat tires will get you where you want to go but the ventilation will make you gasp for thick white air, covered in sweat and walking canes.

Christmas candy in crystal bowls covered in crumbs and shards that slice through gums and bleed some solid color of disgust and puss filled liver failure.

The sheets still feel tight and good running across your legs.


-Ray Strickland 

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