Slow Walk

The ticks from the that grandfather in the corner
drain my soul,
ache my heart
and mist my spider-web.

I am wearing my fathers suit today
and these shoes are killing me.
He wasn't even a half dollar old and had nothing
to be bronzed by.
Even though I loathe those bronzed.
pigoen lavatory.

waiting my turn
with a slow walk up the patterned rug.
quick glance to the right
LOOK AT THAT! Two mirrors in his eyes.

—J.D. Smith

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