More/Less
The smell of fresh rain clings to my skin, more or less, I stand on the corner. Waiting, I watch the cars- more headlights and less bumper stickers, but find one with Jenny’s number in neon pink. I hum the song, an anthem of a more casual time, but less complex. Each day became a subplot to a sitcom, and there was more drama, then less differences in troubles. Now, standing the…













