Poor Historian

Time flies.

If only I had been a fly on this guy’s previous wall, then I’d know it all. His ailments, his anguished bones. I could then give the blind side due hell. His demons might fall with justified smart bombing. And yet, what of any collateral damage? What of children still stuck in his head?

I know I know so much. I know I care, and maybe that’s most important. It’s why for now at this very moment, I know I have the world to learn. I start with the vitals.

Published by Sentinel Literary Quarterly, 2018

Written by Joe Bisicchia on 10/07/18
© 2018 Joe Bisicchia

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time, fall, children

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