There are old subway tickets taped to my refrigerator. One still holds three trips’ fare left over from a visit with you. I think of all the time holed up there, all that steeled thundering…
Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
There are old subway tickets taped to my refrigerator. One still holds three trips’ fare left over from a visit with you. I think of all the time holed up there, all that steeled thundering…