Learning to Write #4


I worked night shifts for a while, in a factory that made sticky tape. That’s a story in itself. The factory was in a small patch of green in an area that was nudging into rough, and it was all very noisy until we stopped for break. Suddenly, it was calm and surreal, almost spiritual. And there are only so many poems you can write about the girl or guy you secretly fancy, and the sadness that weighs on your soul, right?


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