Eileen G'Sell



The next time I come to fuck Tim, the aspens will be older, my memories younger, a glass of Perrier winking in the light. The light will be dappled like the soft sky that people rent for weddings. You can buy anything with enough crayons, including skies and taxis. Tim dislikes cerulean, so I disarm the denim. I ready the chariots, write off his taxes. Fold the pages gently and send it to the law. The last time I counted, marigolds were legal. The first time I cameoed, no one could tell it was me.





I wanted to try the salt of you, to fawn all over your forearms. I wanted to find the perfect font to silkscreen your surname. You are so much smaller than I thought you'd be, you said. I smiled. I used to do that back then. The forest was so friendly.








64 Ct Glory Box: Its first phrase filched from a brand new friend on a sunny Colorado day, this piece wants to hang out with Beth Gibbons and lust for Sweeter Times.

Bambi Days: Is it not disturbing when Flower comes of age? Thumper's voice was already obnoxious.