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Tag Archives: lost

Looking out, perched on the corner
of Shuter and Parliament… above Queen Street
looking for somewhere to go

I’m on a quest for
but I can’t tell you what I’m looking for


Sometimes big puffs of black smoke will
come along,
I always think my first heartache is the driver;
it takes me a sea of molten lava constructed in under 36 seconds by the
holding of my breath to not run
out into the street, bang on the hood of that car
screaming, “It’s me!! I found you!”

Britta B.

I have trouble with remembering
what I was going to say
I’ll be all caught up in a
conversation, just about
ready to hammer the
nail on its head when
I slip up (I’m such a clutz), and hit
myself, my tongue, my thumb sticks out
like a sore sour patch kid with a sugar cane

Aghf, what was I
going to say?

Britta B.