Bitter Bone Fruit

Rental house literature/oe/very poor, very poor, very miserable literature The poorest year Bailey and I were huddled together on the single sofa in the basement that couldn't be called a bed, smoking the same cigarette. Often when the cigarette is half-burned, she will shed tears Look at me and say, "Everything is going to be okay." The gray, ethereal, dream-bearing nicotine dispersion Passed out from her lungs and fell into my eyes The smoke rings condensed into the Berlin fog, and the soot formed into clusters that made it difficult to melt the snow. After several summers It's really like what she said Everything is getting better But, everything is gone Intention: bitter fruit