Before I clocked 14, I lost three lives.

At night I think about what happens after. Where the body goes. When you return this body, I think you are to make a list of all the strange wears and tears it has weathered. Perhaps an instructional record for engineers on how to mend this sheath for the next user. Or for research on how to improve our bodies, so that the next models will not experience the same ailments.

A toilet is a place, too, like a seaside resort or a centuries-old city is a place. A visit to a toilet bears recounting, too.

Today begins with the beautiful / green eyes of the Gestapo /
officer. He looks /
at you & you look

She doesn’t know why I left the other one who sees the dead was too young to be sent off to boarding school stayed home to witness

My father has this shrill cackle that is as flashy as a pink and white fuzzy bunny onesie.