shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Brent Lucia


Dust and Sparkle

When dust sleeps it dreams of becoming sparkle. That's what we were, all smiles in the morning sunlight. By the afternoon, words were left for everyone else; we could hear each other thinking. I left each day knowing who she was, a gift for the lonely road. By night the booze would take and I could hear the crackling of burning photographs.
A woman would stand before me, making accusations underneath the fire of blue eyes. Or so I thought it was a woman.