Michael Munas (michaelboy) wrote,
Michael Munas

Squishing Pennies

In those swampy small places
that were mostly populated with
rotting logs and skunk cabbage

the scent was rightfully pierced by
rainstruck ballast, rust or creosote
and always - wet morning webs, like nets

then, or at least in my mind,
it hung a warm fog around me
where in small stretches of time
I wasn't breathing the fear
of when my parents would disappear

But in those little spots the
sun always seemed to speckle through
just enough and I suppose I got by
- just fine
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