/lit/ - Literature

Ten Piece

Might be a little out of the way
though, he says, as the windshield
wipers gently massage off one
quarter of the droplets. We can do it,

I said, just a boy in the back seat
trying to get a good combo meal.
I remember when I didn’t know
if I loved my brother or not, just

looked at him as my brother and
we existed on the same level of
terminal function in a society that
made happy young boys in the rain

on black streets slick with oil
but no salt on a Tuesday evening.


>another poem from today.