Prayers For Nabokov

Sitting like Buddha

legs crossed

arms at side.

Trying to conjure peace.

Windows wet from morning rain

the hum of nothing

a car drives by.

Wheels sound like ocean waves

hitting the shores

rolling in.

On the chair next to my bed sits Lolita

she was wise beyond her years

what trickery.

I place a mask over the book

covering her legs

then pray.

Sitting like Buddha

legs crossed

arms at side.

I wonder.

Did Nabokov ever know peace?

Published by:

dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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