ex-counterintelligence agent
by Wm. Rike on August 19, 2007
I enjoy coming across the scent
of what has been close to my body,
like an old, unclean t-shirt
or the weak laughter of a sick, solitary man
drinking warm peach brandy at a piano
in a deserted parking lot some late autumn evening,
signifying an uncertain rendezvous.
I dead drop suitcases to myself
in cold, dark alleys
to pass the time.
This post has been viewed (on this page) 362 times .
