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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


06.16.03, monday night

Up and down Clement Street we spied gold-dipped pink crepe paper lanterns, dangling from shop rafters like colossal apple tree blossoms. I bled alot and drank Guinness. It was a celebratory drink, for Jimmy had given me a claddagh ring, a crowned heart held by two hands. Heavy, despite its smallness. I wear it on the left hand, point in, lobes out.

That night, Jimmy woke me up, whispering, Look. A heavy incandescent moon decanted silver light upon our bed. Itís a full moon.






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