Donna was beautiful---
perhaps the most beautiful thing inside of 1957,
and if it wasn't for this plane, I would see her face once more
I had no interest in Fargo, North Dakota,
none whatsoever,
I disliked coin tosses,
they were shortsighted and relied on the abilities of others
and as it turns out, the boys were right about me---
my sense of adventure would one day do me in---
today
This was quite the winter wonderland
until we wandered right off the grid,
bodies mangled everywhere,
staring at each other through our black rimmed spectacles,
this was a spectacle indeed,
with 'gross' trauma to my Buddy, and my Bopper, and myself
This was a bloody Bonanza we had pickled ourself into,
right here, after the deliberation of Punxsutawney,
and now we were breathless,
just kids, we were---
just kids looking for six more weeks
very Stephen King. You really would love his writing. His writing is nostalgic, gruesome, and beautiful – all at the same time. Your writing dips in and out of rhythms reminiscent of him, but you are have your own style as well. You pepper you stanzas with train of thought experiences and youthful, tangential connections. But you never disappoint us, leading the reader to your characters' usual demise.
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