Careful correlations kiss causation in the school bathroom. My youth was an opaque thing. It always is. In my eyes, many memories are stored alphabetically by aroma. I remember pencil sharpeners and friends made of knives, sharpening themselves and cutting into me. They told me the shivs were diamonds. I didn’t believe them, but they glittered, so I bled cooperatively on a table meant for autopsies.
Miniature Moon 