uttering a prayer for him is utterly useless. try chanting and the levitation will take you to him. I might be dead soon. the outer layer is struggling to contain the inner being. sometimes death spells the birth of a great chapter in store.

She flicks her last cigarette. On the ground and steps on it. Then grabs a broom to sweep. The street of the ashes. That remind her of him. No filters left in the ditch,. Until there is only the quiet. That comes after the sound. Of the last embers fizzle out. How he loved to smoke. After they made love, how in turn,. She loved to watch him hold fire. At his fingertips without getting burned,.

Friday, November 6, 2009. Friday, November 6, 2009. Sunday, September 28, 2008. Monday, September 15, 2008. Words hang in the air. In the gale of anger. What sass back he shot. From a tongue soon unable to fight. The froth of bar soap scrubbing. The whole load into bitter memory. Later tainting his retorts and repartee. Friday, July 25, 2008.

Saturday, January 29, 2011. Alan aka Avrum ben Avrum. Monday, January 10, 2011. A Series by Alan D.