Bloc Party
The softest wall sleeps next to me
on weekends, freckles tagged
all over her shoulders like
mall fountain pennies.
Every time we see each other,
she shakes away more bricks;
the guards start forgetting
their AK-47s.
There’s less to climb,
more cracks to hold hands
through. I still keep away
YouTube clips of Ronald Reagan.
J. Bradley is the Falconer of Fiction at NAP Magazine. He lives at iheartfailure.net.
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