macerated
raze
apple_juice
always
makes
me
think
of
mornings
before
grade
nine
drama
class
.
eating
a
bagel
with
cream
cheese
when
i
wasn't
yet
awake
enough
to
eat
anything
. forcing
my
body
to
do
what
it
didn't
want
to
.
darkwing_duck
on
the
tv
screen
.
bruce
cockburn
in
the
car
.
or
maybe
led zeppelin.
or
simple
minds
.
or
rowan atkinson
singing
about
what
bears
did
on
main
street
.
hair
slicked
back
and
made
stiff
enough
by
what
held
it
in
place
to
pass
for
stalks
of
threaded grain
to
someone
robbed
of
their
sight
. gel
pens
and
unfair_weather_friends
.
the
house
i
hid
in
for
a
few
hours
every
weekday,
alone
but
for
the
companion
dog
who
feared
almost
everything
that
moved
and
whatever
thoughts
i
wasn't
willing
to
file
away
for
an
overcast
day
.
the
certainty
that
invisibility
wasn't
some
superpower
or
the
end
result
of
a
science
experiment
gone
wrong
,
but
a
simple
side
effect
of
being
made
old
before
your
time
by
a
world
unconcerned
with
caring
for
its
young
.
these_days
i
take
orange_juice
with
my
breakfast
.
but
every
once
in
a
while
i'll
swallow
the
past
,
creep
as
close
as
i'm
able
to
the
seashell
of
my
limbic system,
and
strain
to
hear
what
it
wants
to
whisper
in
my
ear
.
260104
what's it to you?
who
go
blather
from
