I’ve not seen that Allen Road door open in five years. Then, today: a hand around the red paint, a bottle on the doorstep, neon-pink fingernails disappearing through the cobwebs.
Jan 252012
Words Found Written on the Steamed-up Windows of Late-Night Buses
Jan 172012
The cat in the red plastic box stares resentfully through the bars as if to say “beneath the table of a Drury Lane cafe is no place for a Persian Blue.”