Michelle Paulsen
weekends of walking into the you grow tired a strange sudden
in storms

a strange sudden
rain, the water
washes the red
dust through the
small town. a
place of dry
heat and
childhood, walking
to the Market
Basket, but an
ice cream is
no longer what you

staring at a naked
up on his there is something
then there was the it may be a
snowflakes are fireflies for driving in the there is a