What The Thunder Said, Vol 4 | Page 12

love in the concrete jungle.

by lanie mencinger

when our eyes meet

it's like

I'm on the edge of a subway platform

it's a blur, rushing past,

fast

a kaleidoscope of neon and noise and faces and fabric

and then there's a whoosh of wind

the screeching of brakes

and then

everything stops

silent.

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