Wednesday, February 06, 2008

a poem from bp


Saltine crackers for lunch.

A stickfire in a blizzard.

Raising peacocks when what you need is eggs.

Lottery tickets.

Most first dates.

Owning a house, but no furniture.

All of junior high.

The exact moment when,
brandishing your knife,
you realize that you are in a gunfight.

This is a poem from my friend Brandon who has a really great blog I check daily. You should too!