Out And In Poem by Ballerina With Fins
Out And In
Rating: ★5.0
As they sit there,
chain-smoking, I whisper my name,
to convince myself that
I am still real.
En Bloc, they say.
Baa, they respond. Sheep,
they understand.
In, and out, and IN,
but out. And In,
but what?
They have you at the wrong
end of the stick, helpless ants.
Scurry on, quickly.
For fear that you get
left behind.
Saturday, July 8, 2006
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4/26/2024 3:24:55 PM # 1.0.0.1119
