TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
05.25.04, tuesday night
At the cemetary, barn swallows swooped close on a cool-sweet wind, twittering lapis lazuli flints above the tall blond grass. If certain avian species had been named today, Jimmy mused, they might have received common names like freeway-pass swift or old-factory owl. Bumblebees drowsed; tiny white flowers bent beneath black dime-heavy bodies. Heart-shaped cherries popped loose warm blood-red juice, staining fingers a newborn summer hue.