is carved into a picnic table in the park.
I wish I had F’s backbone, had given Josh Y’s two middle fingers.
He’s texting again. “Get back here.”
N ❤ T has a heart. Sympathizes. Wants me to tell him Not taking it anymore.
Josh: “Throwing your shit out.”
DC flips Don’t care.
But I’m shaking.
“You’ll never get far.”
A graffiti believes him. ➔ points to S. The Silver River isn’t far from here.
Weathered TW weeps what to leave behind, what I might carve: To whom it may concern.
The Fuck starts cursing, the You yelling, Fight, girl.
Karen Walker’s words are in Janus Literary, Reflex Fiction, FlashBack Fiction, Ellipsis Zine, JAKE, Brink, Funny Pearls, Flash Boulevard, Bloom, and elsewhere. Twitter: @MeKawalker883.
The Centifictionist 
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