My Front Porch 9


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.

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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