Trans. From the Cyrillic

Anyway, she jets to Norway one morning but its storming up at altitude – a fuse blew and the shouting grew intense before they went headfirst into the ocean. Waking up, she was a ghost and checked out the spirit circuit around Ireland a while – drinking, haunting, some denial of her state of nonexistence (these were often quite persistent, lasting well into the night) but generally still getting by. I had left my only heart on the floor of a factory that made cereal for children in lonely Battle Creek and I was tired of machinery and wires underneath every single soft exterior – picture my disbelief when I first found her in the bottom of a box of cereal – the best prize to behold, she was light, ethereal but still mine and then to find – ANYWAY the airline did apologize in several months while I was in a loft in Providence, checking out the tongues of pretty ghosts.


~ by perfectionatrix on August 14, 2012.

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