Monday, August 28, 2006

lampshade of the apocalypse

There's a moment when you first stumble down the stairs in the morning and collapse into the kitchen, the lights still struggling with varying definitions of cogency, as you peer into the cupboard to pull out the last clean coffee cup, that you stare through the pending doorway into Africa. In the distance, Kilamanjaro roars. Lions purr beneath the marula trees.

I like to live in that space between my nose and the cabinet door.

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