And then we began eating corn starch, <br />chalk chewed wet into sirup. We pilfered <br />Argo boxes stored away to stiffen <br />my white dress shirt, and my cousin <br />and I played or watched TV, no longer annoyed <br />by the din of never cooling afternoons. <br /> <br />On the way home from church one fifth Sunday, <br />shirt outside my pants, my tie clipped on <br />its wrinkling collar, I found a new small can of snuff, <br />packed a chunk inside my cheek, and tripped <br />from the musky sting making my head ache, <br />giving me shivers knowing my aunt hid cigarettes <br /> <br />in the drawer under her slips, <br />that drawer the middle one on the left.<br /><br />Forrest Hamer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dull-sound-varying-now-and-again/
