I preferred to call it a visit from Mr. Grimsby, who I pictured as a stretchy Victorian gentleman with overflowing sideburns and a meerschaum pipe.
Mr. Justin
When you report to Justin’s classroom at the beginning of fifth-period lunch, there’s already hella people sitting with the desks pushed together and chopping it up over trays of cheesy potato wedges.
The Fires Are Not Yet Contained (and other poems)
When one hits the bridge
near Richmond, we pack
two days’ worth of clothes
and a few of everyone’s
sentimental objects.