Speak to me in a language I can’t understand

I have dreams in which I dream about you

Speak to me with a voice of soil and stone

I have the sound of your voice stuck in my ear like wax

Speak to me with your only good ear

I have your hair in my bathtub

I have your empty tampon boxes

I have little else

I have you


I trace the peaks and valleys of keys hoping to unlock the chains and bars holding down the empty nuisance of this garbage bin


He smelled smoke.

She screamed out loud.

He held out his hand to his lover.

He walked back to the hotel in the rain


Posted by Wes Laudeman

Writer, hiker, and future teacher, I'm looking for stories and adventures that will last a lifetime.

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