There’s a boy that I often see. He’s tattooed with stories that he sometimes catches me trying to read. I wonder if they are stories of past or dreams of the future? I wonder if he is the main character what does that make me? Am I even in the story? And if so, am I a villain, a hero, or just an extra that has no lines? I take another glance trying to catch a hint. A word or two before he moves into the future and leaves me behind, still wondering.
Be well,
Monty
Monty’s Blahg 
A prose poem of depth and intrigue. We are confronted with questions always and can never really know the answers, sometimes we can’t even know the questions….
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Depth and intrigue!! I achieved my intention then, yay!
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