Twelve

the trouble in attempting to act 

like everyone else

is that I don’t feel the same as everyone does -- they 

see ads in a wrinkled-up newspaper. I see two photos 

in the bottom left corner

one girl 1980s kidnapped w/o a trace, in my 

college town no less, the second photo a computer’s 

rendition of what a now forty-six year old face would 

look like, a face whose very generation balks at waves of 

crime statistics and she was only twelve her parents 

haven’t stopped

looking. 

they haven’t stopped after (after after) thirty-four 

years. I see them, maybe just one left, setting aside 

twenty, fifty, two-hundred dollars each month 

money from a 

quickly-diminishing retirement fund, praying

this one more ad will bring home their baby girl and

it wrecks me

it wrecks me to bits.

the rest turn to Sports.

Reviews

[Chris]

Life as we live it IS seldom as we want it... Remember ever hearing the song about unanswered prayers?