The Fifth Commandment
Waiting with an unfinished, finished look behind honeysuckles that crown Old Saybrook, she is reading Vita Sackville-West, he has food on his moth-eaten sweater vest. Here’s the Oriental rug, still steeped in piss from their bulldog who barked like and activist. She seems happy, reigning with creams you FedExed, rubbing his scalp, patched with scabby flecks […]