Short thoughts

The hairs on the forearm
flatten
with a blast of the hand
dryer


Like the standing crops in a field
flattening against
a blast from the rotor blades
of copter

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My headlamps shone as
an aberrant daytime flash
caught in the rear
of the car ahead

In others eyes
I realize
the errors
and follies
Of my making


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She smiled
and grimaced
both at the
same time

Unwilling
to cut up
a conversation
with someone
she once loved

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When the pain was over
relief flooded her
like monsoon
after a scorching summer

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