Thursday, November 3, 2011

Wooden

©Stacie Sandall


He sits with his head bowed.
His rough, callous hands fondle each other
while curious people pass by and stare.
The wooden, yellow park bench
dips under his weight and creaks in disagreement.
His hair flips gently in the breeze.
He lifts his sore, bleached body to its feet
and runs his skinny fingers through his greasy hair.
The wooden park bench creaks again in relief.


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