SPRAYPAINT I shook my head no. A piece of mortar fell from my ear. She leaned in close, whispered of marauding men, childhood homes, ones they break into to see if anything remains. On my bookshelf, a fossilized seashell. A little wall inside my ear, deep inside my ear, is covered in words and phrases, the graffiti of a family and all those knowing community members. Drunken, late-night, midday messages, all scrawled the same sprawling with the residue of certainty across each of my decisions.

Musical Welcome =
Virgil Renfroe /
Yellow Light (lite)

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