and Matthew says:

she committed suicide he told me his wife was dead two weeks after having the baby their first child she was afraid what she looked like in her bathing suit

i saw her there in the darkness hiding in the bushes and when i bent down my hand out before me she came askance her gray blending in with what little light there was the moon behind the clouds a tabby in that gangly suspension between kitten and full-grown not really skinny but like her legs were too long for her body and the hind ones kind of rotated not quite in step with the rest of her and she came to me with her head down sniffing

some women are like that she says they look at others then look at themselves but you can’t have the same body you had when you’re nineteen but you see them at the pool leaning back on their hands their feet dangling over the water they look at legs then look down at their legs they look at bellies then look at their bellies always comparing always turning to look over their shoulder at the mirror avid for fashion that gives that ocular illusion of ten pounds lighter ten years younger

yes but is it that is it postpartum depression? she died ugly drowned in her bathtub

and I hear sometimes on the radio a song I know all the words to and I can remember the first time I heard it and how I played it over and over and made others hear it hoping they heard that they heard what I hear the same sharing other things that said this is me a better me and eclectic tastes ever yearning for the obscure scorning the popular and with sarcasm telling all my friends don’t watch that don’t listen to that because there’s this and it’s cool but I won’t say it’s cool because it isn’t cool to say that but if you want content here is style and if you see style dig deeper to see the content it’s what’s on the outside what’s on the inside and there ain’t nothin’ that’s only skin deep

just old getting older you don’t read as much you don’t keep up on the latest trends or look back to what was obscure before you were born it’s like looking for a piece of you in the mirror of someone else’s truth in erections they like to call art… experience… I like food now and when your asleep you don’t share your dreams

is it over—the sharing?
No but the excitement is. You know the new isn’t new and the old isn’t that old. You don’t have to tell the world you know something they don’t know you know when to follow or when to lead you know when…

when what? a cat’s meowing outside your door?

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