Seeing red boxes everywhere.
Call a van.
Call of hands.
To lift me outta here.
Return to sender via a rubber stamp.
Stamped the onslaught of negative thought.
Font size 11.
Dress like your seven.
Teens think you’re a messiah.
Horned-toothed on a pin-toothed cardigan.
Catalogue another bad heart again.
Call a friend.
A quest for a new heart again.
Now another bend comes another rubber stamp sender.
Thinking what else to write on a broken bench.
Sitting there seems the right moment to speak about a favorite sandwich.
Disregarding what else to write.
Out of spite leaving the bench position for the night.
That sandwich was superb with a can of sprite.
Spirit lifted grabbed by a call of hands.
That cost more than a rubber.