Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Promises you can't keep

She drove a '92 Chevrolet, dark green. It was as beat up as she was. It whined like a squeaky rat every time she started it. When the rain soaked the sidewalks and the streets ran like mascara tears, she would say that the soil soaked up everything--the toxins and pollutants. When the rain came, it didn't matter if it was bad; the soil let it in anyway. She said she was too dry for that now, too hard and compact. She said her cracks showed like wrinkles.


  1. so horribly picturesque and made of grit and the darker clouds. you are a delight.

  2. You're very talented :)
    I'd love to follow your blog, but I can't find the follow button :S


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