If you were a kid, you got a kite
Every March,
And flew it along the Conodoguinet
In someone's back yard who didn't mind.
The wind took the line, yanking it away from you
Like a willful dog on a leash, til
All that was left
was the pink strand scar on your palm,
And a ripped blue diamond flashing in the sun.
If I dropped it and you did, you would watch a blowing
Handkerchief fall into the ocean and grab it for me.
It could wind up in the Adriatic someday, or between the dead teeth of
A pirate. But it doesn't matter.
Once you touched it you would hold your hand between the waves forever.
So many lines on your hand it would take.
Late Night with The Devil
-
Cameron and Colin Cairnes’ retro horror jaunt LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL has
an irresistible cult-baiting premise. The year is 1977, Satanic panic is
brew...
1 day ago
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