Everyday hajj to the blackdesk obelisk.
Train back and forth.
I am five minutes tall, seated at my desk.
I shrink by seconds, bored and melancholic.
I must have turned bright red as I watched him spin, dance and sing.
The nineteen year olds in the grocery section who tell me I look like Wednesday are yelling into their walkie talkies.
A ground spinner in the shape of Saturn which promises its rings are sexier than all the emperor’s concubines combined, than all of your wishes fulfilled. Poppers and fountains. I think my boss’s daughter groomed me. Rich kid calling in the help to get on his knees and pleasure his betters.
I didn’t want anyone else’s cynicism rubbing off on me and diminishing the essences’ effects. I knew, I had to believe.
I asked him to bring me some nachos from the mini mart he worked at. We had rebound sex on my futon.
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
"I loved reading Exit, Carefully. It’s unusual, and in my opinion exciting, to publish a play without previously receiving a major production."
-Walker Caplan, Lithub
