Pleas and Queues

a river’s as much its fishy
weeds n’ murk as the
crisp teal curls
i surf,

it seems to be life’s stingy
givers often reel from
sorest livers

and it’s a shame when ailin’
heart’s got nothing left
give of her-

but pain.

she plucks a number and
seeks her seat among
queue’s annoyed n’

no panic, barely bothered-
it’s seldom she feels
anything but




7 thoughts on “Pleas and Queues

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