Limbo is where unbaptized infants go when they die. Sophie Wright told me this, this morning, while we were smoking cigars at the bus stop on the corner of Magazine Street and Napoleon Avenue. We sat on the bench, in the shade of Ms. Mae's awning. The oaks in the neutral ground dripped from the fog.
2 comments:
reminds me of three friends, a sharpy and a coffee table.
Three wrongs can make a city right.
Post a Comment