November 6, 2011

Maybe it’s unconscious, this suspicion, this lack
of trust. It should be colder. It’s too sunny she
thinks, downing her pink fizzy drink, a concoction
of powdered vitamins and minerals. This winter
seems to be playing multiple tricks, because not
a single bird has even entertained the notion of
fleeing south. Make another pink morning treat
but this time load it with pills or vodka or maybe
take it with a joint. Can’t be too healthy these days.
Not when the man I love is a doctor.



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