Wednesday, November 30, 2011
inside the lines
"i am a homosexual wiccan," he said the first time we met,
in the middle of the park.
the trees did not leave, nor the sun stand still, though
i think he thought they would
my only response was, "and..."
and his, "and what..."
"well there has to be more than that."
and he was taken aback, because he had accepted
the line where most people stopped
got scared, or left and that is where our friendship began.
written for imperfect prose and theme thursday.