枣庄六副够级

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                              • In Print

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                                March 17, 2020
                                1.

                                Because he could picture himself curled up on the shelf of the refrigerator between the bread and the light.

                                2.

                                Because he stared up at the sprinkler attachment and thought of it as a metal flower.
                                March 10, 2020
                                Mears takes your name. As soon as you say it, he speaks it in quick echo, and it is now his and no longer yours. We don’t know what he does with it or what it does for him, but we do know what happens to those he pilfers.
                                March 3, 2020
                                All those touched and killed by the night end up floating on sea. Strewn across some other beaches are the stranded bodies of dead kings.
                                February 25, 2020
                                This is where the sand meets the

                                collapse / the flat line / cove     

                                            a silver or brown hole

                                a line                that causes a fever            
                                February 18, 2020
                                Things that are Funny on a Submarine But Not Really— The torpedo man named Grenadier who lives in South Carolina and thinks North Carolina is the North. The XO who hates my bucket hat I wear printed with cherries, but would rather me wear it than the other one I have that says, “Bigfoot is Real.”
                                February 4, 2020
                                Although family therapy consumed more time than basketball practice and did not improve my odds of attending my first-choice college, my sister’s suicide attempt had alarmed my parents, and they were taking every precaution against relapse.

                                     Horse, meet barn door. Bird, meet coop. I am trying to say: It was all so predictable.
                                January 28, 2020
                                I worked for commission in a sterile room with many clocks. The product did not glimmer in the fluorescence, but it was as if it did, and better, like they’d found a way to remove the obligatory negative space of glimmering when the object floated in darkness.
                                January 21, 2020
                                I have taken a blow to the head.

                                     Not one blow. Many blows. But one was worse than the others.

                                     And my larynx is not my own. My heart isn’t either. But I have a phantom larynx and a phantom heart.
                                January 14, 2020
                                We found the laptop in Cressey’s round room. It was black, thin, light as wood, and belonged to Dr. Marcus, the man who came on to me once, the one who smokes dope in the eaves, the philologist or psychologist. I can’t get these “terms” straight in my head anymore, what with these drugs they feed us. The afternoon pills, especially.
                                January 7, 2020
                                We turn the floodlights on the actors, extras in one of the world’s great short stories, surprising them mid-escapade, nocturnal animals caught playing dress up with our clothing, our fanciest possessions. Pearl choker on a possum, suit jacket on a raccoon. A skunk, a lynx, two tubby foxes moonlighting as twin nephews or as young men dating our daughters.
                                 

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