A Slice of Surreality

a shortcut
you used to take,
located somewhere
between a fatigued
façade and a bench

bare; a cozy little square
where local drunks would
congregate to damn
the vicissitudes
of their tipsy

fate; a hole in the fence
through which you peeked
under the lining
of the world till then
impenetrable and

still; a hunchbacked tree
from under the cover
of whose leaves
it took you
all your childhood

to flee; a tank’s caterpillar
tread on your doorstep;
in life, the only one
that would never yield
a butterfly

[Originally published in Vox Populi.]

Photo by Suvorovalex/Adobe Stock


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