A Prose Poem by Anonymous
There’s a mallard and his mate outside my window. The rose bushes have been uprooted, ready to be replaced. Across the street the police are in the process of arresting a woman. Her husband [boyfriend] leans against the building like he’s seen it all before. It’s difficult. I think I’m ruined. I’ll take my chances in slivers; not brave enough to flat out ask and too smart [afraid] to blow it all by being honest. If you were here I couldn’t fake it. But you’re not. You’re a handwritten letter; an untold story. Tomorrow, the landscapers will be back.