modismos del alma
10 April, 2010
Poem No. 14: Ruta No. 9
Things I find shocking, as I turn and bumble over cement which sits uneven on the Earth:
Everyone sits on the outside (aisle) seat.
(So now do I too?)
No one gives the aisle seat up.
(You can’t sit here!)
(My head falters, sleep enters).
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