The crowd parted as we slowly and carefully pulled out of the driveway. A guy who looked like a Hell’s Angel banged his fist against the hood of the car, and a woman spat on it as we drove by them.

No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.
The crowd parted as we slowly and carefully pulled out of the driveway. A guy who looked like a Hell’s Angel banged his fist against the hood of the car, and a woman spat on it as we drove by them.