A kind of journal (3)
01/05/2011 § Leave a comment
Who could have known? That of all the places, I’d find happiness in an apple. Nor was it some elusive and impossible image I keep chasing in my mind of a girl but rather a pound of flesh like a child’s heart at play which I weighed on my palm and held in my eyes its redness. Palpable, unadulterated, indelible edible. I ate it with love, swallowing each bite like some secular sacrament unfit for a wretched animal I felt I was.
Afterward, the core was like an old tree with a hole in it.