writers are not my people

Writers are not my people

 

Writers are
not my people.

 

My people are
out there
on the street
making their
slow way
home on foot
from the
grocery store,
a plastic
bag with
looped handles
in each hand,
their feet
kicking up
the autumn leaves.

Leave a Comment

Filed under poems & short jabs

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.