Categories
lunchtime poems poetry

7.2.18 / cushions

Cushions velcroed to the wooden bleachers.
Close-cropped curly haired man gives no shit,
He wrenches that cushion from its home
Like an ICE officer, plopping himself down as if
He owns the goddamn place.

By Josh

I'm the guy who owns this site, ya dummy.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *