a gaggle of misfits

A disproportionate soul in a Lily Pulitzer moo-moo hums an old country tune about catfish and blue jeans. A skeletal cat flows around a red brick corner like a lazy ghost. I drop a piece of excess hotdog bun as I walk by the pawnshop. A coyote howls. And, I wonder what twisted psychopath has stranded a coyote in the middle of Miami. Though, I suppose, none of us really knows why we’re here, or who is to blame.

Reviews

[roarke]

ok, but I got dibs on the piece of hotdog bun....

I've always wondered, when something strikes me, sets my creative thoughts on edge and I'm fortunate enough to recognize it and start writing, what if... I just kept going, no matter if I was late for work, the tea kettle was boiling over, the roof caught fire... what if I just kept writing?
YOU Mr. R.G. better just throw the leash away and let it go, take your finger out of the dike and ride the dam break when ever it strikes you.
maybe you can untwist that psychopath.... or just bring another stray coyote home with you.....

[Nobody.]

thanks Roarke. you're probably right. I'm still afraid to jump off the ledge a bit. :) Good to have your insight again!
Cheers!

[Kenneth The Poet]

I love the last two sentences here. A coyote in Miami is like seeing a toucan in Halifax.