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Monday Afternoons

I am so full of laughter it’s making me hurt as they fill out address bars and the sexy ones flirt with each other and nobody asks me to dance. 73 more words


This Dream I Keep Having

It’s funny – when I die, there is nobody but a paid public servant, shovels dirt and then it’s done. So flat, you know? And it is snowy and he’s lonely but he won’t drop the pretense, which I respect, or I would if I, you know, were not dead – … 25 more words


The Season Ends

It always was fictitious – every sweet and sour instant – some perfumes cloud my vision: I smoke too much and get antsy. And I keep finding my hands need just a little extra company – the gravity is jumping back and forth like camera shutters: I can’t see or feel my stomach. 78 more words


The Universe Next Door

All that you need is a bucket of steam and a good tune to whistle and a chaseable dream and at night you’ll make over-grand plans for a morning that only exists in a catalogue – rattled off, drunkenly schemed up and easy to toss as an empty. 97 more words

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