[insert comma here]
Even activists must freak out
sometimes about how little we’ve done.
—Kevin Killian
I’m not exactly sure how to put this, but
it’s Tuesday morning.
I have no idea
how to say this, but the potpourri really
stinks.
We arrive on motorcycle, all black &
white. It’s Easter
Sunday. The aunties
arrive on motorcycle, dressed to the
nines, circa 1959.
The tenants began to grow suspicious
when the scaffolding remained up
for longer than a month.
.jpg)
