Sunday, December 5, 2010


I would love to lose my heart, but above all I would love to lose it to the faces of lice I’m expecting to ooze out of here, the gush of them which to my sweet-toothed heart would be like embracing cotton candy. A reassuring picture from the vaults. When you buy medicinal raffle tickets, your mind stands a chance to win those arrested sirens in the scary loft. The heady healing of storage. The vaudeville bounty hunter crouching under the damaging steam, arms fanning out postcards – he’s losing it by mistaking them for antique versions of latkes. We’ll be licking espresso foam from the corners of our mouths before this stairwell has ended.

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