A little blue ash tray.
A white table cloth.
A plastic chair.
A man.
Pen in one hand,
paper before him,
and a waterfall in his head.
Nicotine holes
in the table cloth and
his flooded mind.
Yes,
he built his own dams -
though at the time, he didn't know
what he was doing.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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