erasure machine
We fund the film of our dying with the money we get from our dead. If you’re alone, say we. Three frogs, one dog, ants. A spider I thought was a tick. The dog was an accident. A friend who doesn’t like my work warned me about that first line. It’s okay, I love my friend. His heart is an anthill of electric longing. He prays himself a redder apple while watching baseball. There are too many handheld things. God can’t be born.
kingsoftrain 
Leave a comment