Because I Don’t Own A Foghorn

A week ago, I was here...And it was fourteen ways of beautiful and 6.3 ways of cold. I had a bowl of clam chowder alone and I stared at the clouds out the window. I listened to the sound of voices in a crowded chowder joint, disjointed and rushing, like the waves outside.The person next … Continue reading Because I Don’t Own A Foghorn