The words and ideas contained within their pages are the property of their authors and cannot be used for any purposes without the authors' specific written consent. You A long fall ride, solo. Fingers on the grips Turn blue. The denim wrapping arms, torso, and legs is blue.
Clouds spewing from exhausts are blue.
This Friday night feeling, alone, is blue. Through that door, smoker s vapors are blue. Russ Chadwick's poem appears here with his express written permission and cannot be reprinted or otherwise used without his express written permission.