I love the word emergency. Its redness, its lack of eventuality, its flash and crime. Its brothers—burn and rope. I love the way humans
I love the word emergency. Its redness, its lack of eventuality, its flash and crime. Its brothers—burn and rope. I love the way humans
When you spotted the deep pucker lines around the young woman’s lips, you whispered in my ear, Smoker, as if you would never die.
Come, you whisper. I run down the triple switchback, don’t stop to lift my fallen fleece glove. I find you in seizure, shivering,