Jaya Savige. latecomers. “West end”.
I want it to stop here where it began.
this gentle aphasia
washes over us like fabric softener.
I don’t want to follow the simile into a full-blown conceit. But I read on implanting the two lines like senyru in the laundry like coins forgotten in a pocket. Like the glitch of language tumbled dry. It never shrinks.
And so for day 2124