by Melanie Browne
He thought about her as he examined the new package of slightly irregular socks she bought for him at the closeout store. Putting them on and staring down at his feet, he wondered if 'slightly irregular' was something akin to 'bad vibes' because every time he wore them he thought about natural disasters or the fact that Wolfman Jack was no longer on the radio. He had quit smoking again and his skin felt itchy. Even his eyeballs itched. Just as he brought his fingers closer to his face she appeared in front of him, stark naked and smiling broadly. If he could find where she hid his cigarettes he just might be able to forgive her for the socks.
Melanie Browne's poems have appeared online in various journals including Madswirl, Gloom Cupboard, Word Riot, and DecomP. She has a poem forthcoming in Pank Magazine. She lives in Texas.