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Relationships of Static Confusion Ghost Trails He wanders cobblestone trails, glances into alleys before passing, certain the enemy still tracks him. It would have been easier had they killed me, he told me, in a rare lucid moment. I think back to eighteen, his class ring slung round my neck, heart pumping. Pris Campbell |
Booted Over the edge and fed up, I bludgeoned him with my boots-- the same ones that walked me to Woodstock then sat glass-encased with the scent of weed and crushed daisies, his screams now embedded with Hendrix howls into my shrine. Pris Campbell ©:2003 |