Musette picks me up from work. She had a bad day. A pot of grease almost exploded in her face. She says that she doesn’t know why she works in that death trap.

Passing the tunnel of Christmas trees, we get gyros. Mine has hot sauce on it and her’s doesn’t. We eat them on the way home.

Arriving at the apartment, I let Charlo out of his kennel. There is no puke. I take him outside and he squirts a small amount of bloody shit.

I don’t want to take him to the vet. I can’t afford to take him. I definitely can’t afford to have something removed from his guts. The Lord knows this. He must. His timing was so perfect. At least he didn’t kill him on Thanksgiving. God knows he tried.

The vet is back in town tomorrow. I pray that whatever it is he’s dealing with passes naturally.  

My knees feel out of joint. My calves feel ripped from the bone. I write while standing. I write while moving. Each a sentence between the dishes. Soapy hands or shitty hands. Sometimes my own vocal chords spilling out and into the page. A pretty girl in a porno. A refugee’s bedroom. On the move and on the money. Dog in one hand and you in the other. Taxi cabs and trash. New York City Living. Et and mel now in telegram. Lily is out, gone and away, but I can still feel her only a second separated. No puke yet but not enough stool to feel safe either. I keep walking, I keep hoping, I keep praying, doing my best to keep this locus under control.

Lie down and do your best to dream, little boy. Keep breaking apart the blocky structure. Liquify your life. Make it more digestible.

A mole on her left tit. One of the right side of her jaw. Two dicks in her mouth. One of them being James Deen. An open black pant suit. Knees on the hard floor. Spit running everywhere.

These are the days of our lives. The dog is still alive. Musette is asleep again. She usually is when I come to you like this.

Black coat hanging on the door. Towels on the mattress. She doesn’t usually work on Saturdays but someone who she worked with is going back to their home country, so she has to this week.  


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