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It’s Wednesday morning. I have something to tell you.

It is so easy to lose track of a limb

when you live outside your body, outside your

“self.” Greyer than a cinderblock down

in your gut. Every morning on the bus I pass

“Diamonds Gentlemen’s Club” but it’s out of business

and I wonder where the owner pawned his diamonds.

It’s hard not to kill to stay alive. I cannot

fade like a slowly breaking calculator. I have to

keep eating instead. It’s like trying to comprehend

the size of a light year. We’re just not built

that way. When I was a kid they told me I was so smart—

but I’m really not. This is my confession.
Posted 01/23/18
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