Everything that morning was white and grey, even the plants showed up in their palest for an April wedding. My chest bones ache when I wake up, stretched after a night of being curled in sleepless blinking. A man walked up to me with tears in his hands that were larger than snowfalls, smaller than […]
November 9, 2009
Sitting in the restaurant that poses as the town centre You eyes are now a forest on the eastern seaboard Clarity, growing like sound
November 9, 2009
You stand in line fishing change out of the oceans of your purse. As you fumble for a fourth penny you blame your habit on an aunt who once cooked a meal for an army of men that was never there. Her house makes you cry. It’s been locked for years but we all bet […]
November 10, 2009
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