You Have No Idea

by Arthurine Harris

where I live,

parties are more fun on the first 
businesses that should be "stuck in the middle"
classified "criminals" hold dreams, doors for strangers...

people mourn, softly in the morning
work, hard in the noon
dance, drink dark liquor swirling in small glasses,
at night
laugh loudly until the sun sends them back to their lives, houses,
which hang, dangle on the door frame of faith.

You could never swallow
such concoction.

You Have No Idea by Arthurine Harris

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