People stop me and
say, ‘You’re not from around here;
I recognize you.’
Our breaths mix in the
cold. Flesh speaks to flesh, but who
exactly? Words fail.
I go in. Coffee.
Dante at the old bookmark.
Flesh of words. Our flesh.
People stop me and
say, ‘You’re not from around here;
I recognize you.’
Our breaths mix in the
cold. Flesh speaks to flesh, but who
exactly? Words fail.
I go in. Coffee.
Dante at the old bookmark.
Flesh of words. Our flesh.