My Front Porch 9

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On my front porch tall bikes…
and shanty towns drip drop from sheets of rain. Punks hold out in the corners of a town where rent has doubled in one year,vacancy is less than one percent and artists are making their living scooping ice cream for stoned trust fund babies.

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About iknowyouknowmyheart

Ever Tried. Ever Failed. No Matter. Try Again, Fail Again, Fail Better -Beckett Here I am right over there, running into opportunities to stop running and hoping they keep my scent until my prayers are answered and I am brave enough to slow down.

Posted on May 19, 2015, in doin things, friends, making stuff, queer, travel, true stories and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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