A Novel Idea

A briefcase as busy as the man carrying it, leather-clad and headed east.

A typical summer of ’72  pick-up truck rusted orange floating to the very left of your peripheral vision.

Last night’s over-ripened-basil-purple sunset, followed by the pepper black night salted with stars.

All of these things together, as you walk past the spot you started.

A Novel Idea.

-D.R Breshears

 

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