|
|
|
|
broken He handed me this little key, all secretively, as I stood at my terminal. I could not quite figure it out -- a broken up old key that was of no use to anyone. And he still did not speak to me, just dropped the key off like it was garbage, whispering about its supersonic bionic bubonic powers. Sharonda said the key was symbolic, a key to his heart. But the key was all broken in half, and bandaged together by amateur, clumsy hands, with rolls and rolls of too much cello tape. Kind of like mine, I guess. |
|
Send mail to thedepressed@hotmail.com with
questions or comments about this web site.
|