Some Words for Tuesday, 2:50pm Dusty roads slipped over moss hills, she awaited, smooth palpitations caressed her chest, finally, alive, a horn blared, she climbed inside, latched onto a stranger's hand, stripped one red sock from her foot, tossed it out the window, and whispered her vast secrets into passing trees.
She's changed, they'd say, she's gone too far that way, pointing to a trapped corner, bottom lips trembling with envy, she should have stayed to the right, she should have.