Stranger round, dark like chocolateleft one slightly crossedare the wistful eyesof this old, hopeful soulI hear chaotic guilt andempty questions recitedas the jumbled memoirsof a lone stranger, lingerson a time-worn piereyes like glass marbleshe scans his fishing lineGod hears his prayers To continue reading, please go to Hotel Masticadores, and be sure to like, subscribe…