Shell Thick and Her Own Planet
There were days where she felt like this, like the weight of an egg last in its carton. […]
There were days where she felt like this, like the weight of an egg last in its carton. […]
I blame the malevolent fairy tales where the princess always presents a creamy complexion— porcelain, silk, satin, dewy as unblemished
was hard. Only kids could have invented it. The girl sat on the toilet and the boy sat on
Coffee for headache, grapefruit for heartache, blue for the weather and red for forgiveness; hopelessness–may I suggest a bubblegum flavor?
When he drives the grain truck in, what the hell, parachutists in the trees! Cannot believe this shit he says,
In my dream it was morning or evening, the sky lightly stained with Easter dyes, the fields and mountains glowing