Twenty-four wrecks in twenty-four hours
And those are just the ones reported
Strange how close the students’ joy
Always seems to mirror the oblate ball
They pretend to watch, corner of one eye
While drifting off on gin-scented wings
September 7, 2019
From “on gin-scented wings” by Anonymous
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: fiction, story |Leave a Comment
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