Milk & Honey
He wears a sheet to hide his form and to allow easy passage from the spirit realm
to ours. The hospital bracelet is merely an accessory. He moves entranced,
gracefully down the boulevard, his feet barely touching the ground.
No shoe can contain its swollen condition. Bound only in soiled gauze and a
found sock, his diseased foot leaves a moist print on the sidewalk and, a
lingering aroma of the foulest nature.
White Punk Pukey
Suburban brat went downtown and scored some bad dope with his trust fund
money. The trip has landed him bench flat in the all-hour restaurant. Some
food went into him. more came out. The lad has no one to blame but himself.
Ker-pow! Ker-pow! In a “drive-by” reversal clad only in a filthy brassiere, she Points
her finger guns with deadly aim, This gal has some big cups to fill, a mouth full of
salty words and an ax to grind with anyone whose car passes in front of her.