Far from MarleneZachary Schomburg
There is a faction of nuns on the corner that give the young male trouble. His hair is messed up, like a nest. Birds are in it, laying eggs. The nuns ask him about the birds, naturally curious. He is hyper-sensitive. He’s heard this shit before. He gets in full karate stance. Some of the birds take off. The sky is greenish yellow with some black birds now in it. I take a knife from my kitchen counter and carve out a large slice of left-over chocolate cake. Dear Marlene I begin to write. I go on to tell her about the birds and the cake using some pretty good cursive.
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