divide the cities
east to west
gridlock the country
until all that is left
are some sad children
behind grills and then
some thin wired women,
these grumpy old men,
polishing their stories
down to almost-nothings.
divide the cities
east to west
gridlock the country
until all that is left
are some sad children
behind grills and then
some thin wired women,
these grumpy old men,
polishing their stories
down to almost-nothings.
nickreeves 
love how these wordthe paintings remind me of Peter Gabriel’s sadness the lower case style is pretty cool too very e e Cummings xo thanks friend
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My immediate thought on seeing the title of your poem come across my email was wouldn’t it be sad to have a story with a main character who comes to realize that his life doesn’t amount to even an anecdote. And here they all are in their own proper spots in their own proper grid.
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It feels good to have such an astute reader, Liz (really). I hope this means that I didn’t let you down – not vice versa. xo
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