Holiday Sweater
Holiday Sweater
Wind screamed down Koser Avenue like an angry Masai warrior brandishing a spear in each hand. I’ve never been to Africa but that is how I pictured the wind once I knew you were visiting. Everyone hid until dinner time. Only tiny bulbs peaked out of the earth like green alien eyes. I’d welcome them, but they were aghast at what they saw and smelled. Blinded by bedazzled Santa sweaters like diamond sneezes and assaulted by gallons of citrus perfume that would asphyxiate creatures known for their longevity- not one us of course- but rats and roaches, there was no one left to trap. Enjoy your stay at our roach motel -- the hearth smothered with Batman figures and his kin, which would be fine if they let any air in. Once poisoned and released, you are welcome to freeze to death outside on a psychological blood-letting tour of the neighborhood now back by popular demand: on ice. Not pertaining to how whiskey is served, but frozen in time like Beethoven’s death mask, frigid lips over pearl bone teeth.
-Jenny MacBain-Stephens
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