Ficlets

Dead Lions and Closed Umbrellas

Closed umbrellas with rain dripping down them and all over me.
Thousands of dead lions
And there is silence
None of them can breathe.
So I’m not scared
But I am still wet
And my eyes still burn from saline.
A million “I love you”s don’t mean a thing from far away
Cuz I can’t hear them over the roar
Of all the dead lions whose throats are sore.

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