outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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09.01.04, wednesday evening

Smelly Mel came to town, bringing freckles and stories. We watched Harry Potter movies. We napped on benches, surrounded by geese, who nibbled at the paperflower-strewn grass like old women who don't know when to stop at buffet restaurants. We caroused. We hid behind tombstones from distant lights singing down the roads mourners must take. We bayed at the great lowing moon until Wednesday tied its silk noose, looking like a Monday in a suit, clutching a briefcase that it wanted to chuck out the highest window of the tallest building in the city.

. . .

The moment she left for Portland, all the blinds rolled down, snapping, and we sat in our too-quiet home, wondering why the sunlight ran away.


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