by Jake Lord '19
One red eroded hollow stone Rests beneath an Ohio freeway bridge; Spill your thoughts on it, young child. And he thinks it speaks. And he tells it his name is Fairy Shrimp, But he don’t know why Momma and Daddy Call him that. Fairy Shrimp was birthed about Six years ago and he hasn’t cut his hair since. Long locks colored like oak leaves in the fall Collapse around the dull luster of the red stone. Warm summer sunset cheeks Wander a penniless forest in Unadulterated awe. Fairy Shrimp wishes to be less alone, But this red stone don’t fit In his pocket.