Sunday, June 20, 2010

Hourglass

I’m lying in a gutter. I cannot move and I am still winded. Rats scurry around my head. My left eye is swollen shut. My feet are in a puddle. Somebody is dropping bowling balls on my chest. My ribs are smashing and everything is caving in.

A truck turns into the alley, headlights off. It’s too dark for him to see me and I’m too tired to move.

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