I’ll remember you too clearly . . . There was the college room of it: a fishnet on the walls and ceiling above a single bed. A turntable on bookshelves of stacked cinderblock and pine plank. There was macramé. There was this boy and that boy, the night of not-knowing then knowing. Its bright orange […]
for my ill brown daughter thap. thap. thap. hey there fever girl. hey there ’s water running down your chest, wind slapping your window, hey there fever girl, I hear you keep your eyes in a brown paper […]
