on break

work a good job.

advice seeming sound
though butterflies grin
with such taunting quickness.

I glare, stare, as hard as one possibly dares when it feels like fried eggs litter the street, their whites like paper towels absorbing complaints and greetings and backtalk I understand too well, but do not adopt. Sometimes tree branches play their tricks like perpetually red stoplights. We think it’ll rain and fetch our umbrellas. Later, we’ll juggle our heavier bags, shoulder blades caught in summer’s pressure.

breathe the savory dream.

Cat No. 82 of the 500 Cats Project

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10 thoughts on “on break

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