Carry On by Lucinda Kempe
Once there was a man who loved his donkey, but his donkey didn’t love him back. The donkey loved an eggshell, but the eggshell didn’t love it back.
Once there was a man who loved his donkey, but his donkey didn’t love him back. The donkey loved an eggshell, but the eggshell didn’t love it back.
In high school, Jailbird keeps a cut-throat under his wing, tucked in with the leaves and twigs for the nest in his room.
He’s never walked this street before. Normally he turns right at the sign of the banana trees but today he blazes right by them, walking downhill, leaning like a weatherman in a hurricane.
It’s 7:31 p.m. in the weird light outside a Los Angeles coffee shop, where a pizza delivery guy waits for his pickups.
I smash them all. Because who the fuck collects glass flamingos? Around me, pink shards sparkle in the carpet like pretty vomit.