THURSDAY - audri sousa


audri sousa

we are waiting on a supply truck to back out of the liquor store and i am drinking from a juicebox my neck feels strange and i am expecting mail i am telling you this is my favorite dylan song it makes the skyline pregnant with our latent selves at any given moment i can quickly become a hypochondriac i have sufficient reason to believe i am diseased the supply truck leaves my back feels strange my right eye twitches i notice tributaries of fireflies have begun to pour out of my spinal cord in green luminescent fluid this seems decidedly unhealthy but i keep driving there are laws against this and the people who upkeep them in towns like this are fascistic and pitiable i continue down the highway the fireflies swirl out open windows and swarm the car people on the corners are staring a woman drops her groceries and jaw some of the fireflies slide across my face get caught in my eyelashes they illuminate your hair your cheeks are ruddy like you would dribble pomegranate syrup if i made you laugh the car's interior is dense with green constellating fire the insects are vacuumed outside into orbit around the car the sky fades into orange klimt patterns and the police have begun to chase us the sirens are sounding but my back feels so much better and i have mail to check

Audri Sousa
measuring tape for the midwest
noah falck