Tattered

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Is this real, or is this fantasy? Or am I just quoting a Queen song?

Either way, this sucks. I can’t text. I can’t listen to Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I can’t watch movies or…okay, you know what I can’t do because all ye bloggers are in the same boat.

Whenever I go to an airport, my mom suggests that I take out a notebook and observe the people I encounter. They can all be characters in evolving books or poems.

Once, I did that and ended up with this:

 

Tattered

 

Newark

Train Station

Smells like urine.

 

Cookie monster voice

Growls for a dollar.

Woman shouts Urban Dictionary slurs

As she limps across the floor.

 

Newark

Train Station.

Our train is leaving,

But they never will.

 http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/terminal-time/

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