Your Own Finite Toes above a Small Tin Bath
The building’s sleek airs hiss in the pipes, compressed slow as rose, the rose slows to blue spritzings of regret and who-cares-for-it-anyway—out of the single speckled valve a dual-chambered action— atomized to a fog of longing. Gentlemen, the slung spoor works for you, so use it. Never does quite condense into a body though does […]