novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- vivan i have pictures of you up all over my apartment my grandmother called today. her phone-voice was quieter than usual. normally she stands in her kitchen, erect like she's getting her height measured, shouting into the reciever and squinting off into the distance like she can see the person she's speaking to. she called to make sure i am grateful for the sheets she gave me. grotesquely colored, giant floral printed sheets with holes in them. as i reassure her of my gratitude, i lean down and smell them. they used to smell like her, some unnamed laundry detergent and dust. like her house, even after grandpa left her and she moved into the mobile home. now they smell like me, like my hair and sweat and crotch. it's been less than a week and already her scent faded away except for a spot on the corner of a pillowcase. this part i put up to my face and inhale, while i listen to her smile audibly as i tell her about the stupid things i have to do today. 11:57 pm - 2.25.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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