my new umbrella
a strong wind curls up
under my umbrella
like a drunken bastard
reaching under a
woman’s skirt, and
without permission,
tears it inside
out.
this leaves me wet and
extremely upset, though
instead of cursing
nature, i holler at
the broken piece of shit
in my hand.
Fiction • Poetry • (2) Comments • (0) Trackbacks • Permalink

