"America, like hope's sharp pencil, winks brightly beyond a gantlet of elegant shill. I make my way through the pong-lavender soap, cinnamon sticks, the yeasty throng of tourists sporting on-brand T-shirts or breeches made to colonial specs, a flirt with cosplay which attracts me."
"I resist, peruse instead racks of heirloom seeds that tout the man who's dead, his 'green revolution.' A table of bowls hand-hewn from historic trees- a tulip-poplar pen & rolling pin!- never mind who grew then razed these trees & why & when, or once hauled water to the gardens & grounds from whence this stock arose."
"I judge. Is this how I exist? I choose a magnet for the fridge. I wait my turn in line. I purchase my exit."
Collection
[
|
...
]