Waiting Alone at the Food Court

An old man fell

using his foot to drag 
a penny 

from underneath my table

xo, Rose

If Only The Sunlight Were As Soggy As The Bread

There is a street,
somewhere west of here,
called Dan Morton Drive.

I wonder if Dan Morton is alive,
and if he knows the peculiar pain of
driving west in the winter with
the sun in your eyes,
thinking about funeral food,
and how it comes (in droves)
with the crusts cut off,
and too much mayonnaise.


xo, Sadie