How Long Now Since the Mailman's Gone Missing?
It’s a sad yellow feeling. like walking into someone else’s childhood. A flickering. Inside a vast, black egg: It’s time to go. The little shops pass. Wall-less and candlelit. By night. And she (who greets you at the door). Her mouth. Makes a warm cave. The table’s set. For dinner, dear. Yes. No one. Will unravel this (your home address) again.
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