Your kick was powerful and it was very challenging to change your diaper. I actually felt this kick when you were in my tummy, which made me think you were a boy.
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he inhaled and held it a moment, then shook his head like he had surrendered something and said ‘oh no, i don’t know why i’m crying, why do i do this.’ i said ‘it’s okay.’ he said ‘i don’t even know why’ and chuckled a little, crying less as he continued describing the stripes and chevrons.
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“My rent is $350 a week and I earn $600. So I should be able to move to Hamburg by December. That’s where it all is now. Berlin is over.” I leave that party in an Uber to another. “I’m starting a two-week residency tomorrow at the warehouse. My statement of intent is ‘to discover how sculpture as a praxis can be an antidote to climate change.’” How many Ubers in one night is too many?
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crazy people give the best head cuz they crazy
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She was not an old woman, but she made me feel young. I guess because I’d never had any trouble like she had. She wore a shawl overhead, and had a baby in her arms. The baby was nursing. When she saw me she pushed her breast out of sight.
“I killed a copper,” I said.
I was chatting with a girl. Her left brow crinkled each time I became excited about what I was saying. —I wonder, how many left brows like hers exist in the world?
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I hate it when I cockily kiss my biceps
in a dive bar, taunting a dock-worker
into arm-wrestling me, only to be
all the more humiliated when I lose.
It wasn’t the stiff and desiccated bodies stacked standing behind the closed closet door and it wasn’t the rigor-mortified corpses hanging from the rafters by clotheslines and panty hose, engaging in the gentle sway and rotation characteristic of such bodies in such an array, that got to the cops.
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A T-Bird and two Galaxies was very good for one day, especially as the T-Bird did not involve a trade-in. The woman who bought it, Mrs. Preston, had come in and asked for Mark McGranville and shown him a magazine ad. “Do you have one of these in red?” she said.
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21.) Please don’t leave my brain inside me. I don’t like the idea of being alone. Give it to science; find out if they can actually “see” what went wrong. Have them go at it with experiments. Check if there is a gene.
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I told him I thought it was a bad idea, but he wasn’t listening, and instead he said, “I’ve got a riddle for you.” He said, “At the girls’ residence, taped onto a wall in the hallway before I left, was a headline from The Globe and Mail that said: Squirrel Attacks Man With Nuts. How many ways can this be interpreted?
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I wanted to sink my face into Aoudad’s haunches like one of those padded rings at the head of the massage tables in the training room, to lap at the winking center of their grainy meadow, to taste past him, polish the floor through his taint with my tongue, plumb for undiscovered metals in a hidden mine, be the hook in the cum-mottled wall on which his taxidermal trunk was mounted.
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Back before she had her own children, when she heard someone with children state or insinuate that people without children, people like her, couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to have children, and therefore—usually this would be the part that was insinuated—didn’t have access to the same amount of joy in life as did a person with children…
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