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.


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