In Madagascar, the vanilla smells of old books traded across the street from the bar that drank my college rent. Volatile compounds hide in
Two heartbreaks ago you said, “no trash heaps, no more” but the shopping mall’s much better in the afternoons when everyone else is working,
A belt, a pair of shoes, oil stain on the driveway— these can be incriminating. Someone drank mojito, danced merengue, he may think on