God Loves a Sinner

By sonora

Sat, 17 Dec 2011
  • 572 reads
2 comments
 

I sat with Bukowski
on the steps of the
dock, sharing a
cigarette, shooting
lasers at the moon to
measure the distance
from dusk to dawn.
He talked about drink,
starvation and crazy,
crazy women. I talked
about Plato, Elvis and
Baudelaire. The sun
went down and the sun
came up. The post office
dug its deep claws
into both of us.

Certificate PG
Stuff & Things
Other Fiction

Comments

Submitted by scratch on
Now then Sonora, don't be doing that - catching me off guard at this time with a few words. I like this very much indeed. Pacey, vibrant perfect word selection. Simply put a good poem.

 

Submitted by sonora on
Thank you very much :o}

'Art is not a mirror to reflect reality, but a hammer with which to shape it.'