I. Hours later, even, I can smellthe chlorine on my skin.A sudden trace, the tanglike a lover’s familiar scent.Coming home to myself,only slightly late,every time. II. The brash internet reviewdeclares that NO ONE has liveduntil wiping with bamboo.That seems a little extreme —but who wouldn’t try to test it? In early plague daysof empty grocery … Continue reading Two small things, written in a parked car, served on a Wheat Thin to you.
It all begins with knowing nothing lasts forever. So you might as well start packing now. But, in the meantime, practice being alive. + + + + + + + + There will be a party where you’ll feel like nobody’s paying you attention. And there will be a party where attention’s all you’ll get. … Continue reading “How to be alone” by Pádraig Ó Tuama