There! He slapped another bucketful of water on me. It was eight in the morning and the street had come alive, abuzz. Had he no sense of propriety, making a dripping wet spectacle of me, on a public road? Yellow cabs in the city are not allowed to complain. Such is my lot, our lot.
Blogroll
Featured Poetry Blog
-
the most recent rambles
Archives
Categories
- 55 fiction
- about the author
- accessory
- adult
- award
- baby
- beauty
- celebrity
- cheeky
- colours
- courage
- crush
- daughter
- define
- earth
- emotions
- fashion
- flowers
- freedom
- friendship
- fruit
- history
- icon
- intimacy
- Jasmin'es Jetsam
- leave marks on skin
- marks on skin
- moods
- nature
- office
- outdoors
- plastic
- poetry
- prejudice
- relationships
- shape
- shapes
- short short story
- snip-snippet
- snug
- snuggle
- spindly
- spine
- sport
- style
- teenage
- thought
- time
- trifecta
- water
- woman
- yellow lens
Meta
visitor map
They were here too
looking for something?
That was quite funny!
@cynthia, andy:
pleased to see the likes 
@ The Silver Poet:
thank you 