WWorkin' 9 to 5, whatOith folks like me on the job from 9 to 5
Jut on the street, the traffic starts jumpin'
Aump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin'
Pnd yawn and stretch and try to come to life
Tour myself a cup of ambition
umble out of bed and I stumble to the kitchen
M“ayGood to meet you. I’m Robby. The boy is Dadri and the big one is Rosh’t. Thank you for letting us jump on.” She gives May’s shoulder a friendly squeeze before taking a seat on one of the crates and looking out at the front “Have you been working for these merchants long?”
utna piccola cinciarella azzurra batte sul vetrolhe bird-bric-a-brac
aike a crumbling of reality
l little blue tit taps at the windowpane and looks into the living room,
c'oiseau-bibelot
uomme un effritement du réel
ne petite mésange bleue frappe au carreau et regarde le salon
TYhe click-clack of heels, heavy and deliberate, echo through the corridor. It’s dim, most of the lights having been shut off a little while ago.ou’re a Curse (You’re All Mine)
Poetry: Ghosts of Centralia by Mark Tulin A coal-mining town in Pennsylvania that burns with regret. Many thanks to Scrittura for publishing this poem. Ghosts of Centralia.