in which jumpcut shots are the way i remember my own living and life
sunset through a peak in the clouds
cut to scramble awake in bed 11:30 fully dressed
cut to throwing things in backpack violent search for license
cut to new lavander deodorant wet and sticky dry now
toothpaste on face
bed again warm sighs all around,
from me
cut to another time in which i am engulfed by the
cut to marina jacks listening to this american life in which sarah yorke is a penpal to
cut to remake of that garrison keeler short story in which a boy, now a girl, myself, steals a pie, from a window, from a store, and eats the whole thing with his fingers, with their fingers... both feel ill
