Tom- Tom
Loneliness Sermon
The dust in the trees —
Scents of summer — yet here I
Am. Office. Alone.
TomThe dust in the trees —
Scents of summer — yet here I
Am. Office. Alone.
Bus terminal. Greying hair as thick as straw, You shave in the sink Before you fall black and down On the cold-smeared-shit tiling of the Greyhound bathroom. There is no life before Fent, she said. He