fake #100

the wind howls outside,

a blustery gift from the gorge.

i’m at my goddamn glowing

rectangle again, trying to find the

best way to express myself

truthfully but also, like,

be really cool about it, so that

i’ll be, like, sexy damaged goods.

like a broken piggy bank,

but it’s all quarters spilling

out, baby.

now you can do your laundry.