While smoking my second-to-last cigarette under a street lamp in the desert, I decided that life operated on bad metaphors and absurdist poetry.
As I was crushing the last embers, two jack rabbits ran pitter patter away to have their children and die among the sand dunes and salt flats.
Peter Vickland is a college student living and working in Sacramento, California. His hobbies, aside from writing, include reading and collecting books and not cutting his hair as often as he needs to, as he is frequently reminded by his loving girlfriend. See more at petervicklandwriting.com.
Dismissive of itself, I took a double take. A nicely done juxtaposition which also pits insult against metaphor before continuing nonchalantly. A really enjoyable read!
You have a future, Mr Atkinson. The best writers are those on their last cigarette. It produces immediacy.(another bad metaphor)
That’s my brother!! :D Hi Pete!
Mr.Atkinson I really enjoyed your rich imagery and interesting self reflection.
authors note: find out more about me and my writing at petervicklandwriting.com