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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 18:37:36 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 440
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Bag Lady
[time] => 2002-07-15 05:55:37
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Plastic bags ballooning from the pockets of her coat.
Feet submerged in too large boots. Blue-veined hands grip her rusted cart and push it past graffiti art. She stubbornly thrusts her chin to the wind and shuffles past, eyes red in their sockets. She is completely immersed in the task at hand: finding a warm place on which to stand. She thinks rosewater is the liquid that remains after the flowers have died in the vase. She has no couth She drinks vermouth or anything with a kick. Time carved misery across her cheeks. She moves with pigeons and groans. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she straightens her eyeglasses, bound with rubberband. She hesitates when she sees a vacant grate, and then rushes along. No time for poetry. No time for song. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 181 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Carrie [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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