I’d like to fall on the floor. Or if it was warm enough grass, but it’s not warm enough, the ground is block-ice, so I’d like to fall on the floor and let my cat walk over my chest dimpling circling tracing until she found the right mass. Brass and rivets. She’d use one long claw, cut out what you think is deficient and lay it beside me like nubuck leather. From that comes the holster, the fire. I’m not a door mat.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized, wandering mind. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Galco

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


Valid XHTML Strict and CSS