Just a manager who's a writer for fun.
It was soupy hot when the flashing lights took pause outside my window Peering out, I saw the yellow caution tape stretched across the rain-slick road
By Clyde Porcella3 years ago in Poets
I found myself on the Two Cent Bridge crossing the Kennebec River It’s called that because until 1960, there was a two-cent toll to cross.
I was surprised by the weight of it more than anything as I rolled the burnished steel object around in my palm. Mine was more drab than my brother’s had been, with only my initials carved into the front. J.P.
By Clyde Porcella3 years ago in Fiction