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|The Addicts (standard:poetry, 192 words)|
|Author: kendall thomas||Added: Apr 10 2007||Views/Reads: 2035/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
He tied his tie in front of morning's mirror, where the moving sun lit the four corners of his being above the window sill. . His wife rubbed off the cake and brought forth a butterfly that flittered about this purse or that. What would someone think to see her in that, last year's summer dress? . There was in both antsy anticipation. For it was Sunday --- and there was church. . There will be gospel singing, staunch shows of good will and fellowship, followed by fervent prayers spurred by some vacant need to bring on glorious highs and thrills. . There will be the crafted sermon, the munch of cracker flesh followed by the drinking of Christ's chilled sweetened blood, and then, always in awkward silence, the clearing of some one's throat as the collection plate begins to float. . But O' the crash that comes when Sunday's gone. How to fix those two empty days Until Wednesday? Then -- even as going down the steps out to the parking lot, subtle, nerves on edge -- creeps in that gnawing feeling, that need . .. to score . .. again. Tweet
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