So Many Clowns by Avitus B. Carle
You can imagine my disappointment, being stood up on a date surrounded by children, cotton candy, and parents drowning their misery in overly salted, buttered popcorn.
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I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.
You can imagine my disappointment, being stood up on a date surrounded by children, cotton candy, and parents drowning their misery in overly salted, buttered popcorn.
One time, she found an old spoon in my purse. I told her mommy likes to collect old spoons.
When I was sixteen, the year he went to prison, my lips were red and my cheeks sweet-smelling.
This is the part of the song where you wish you knew something about music theory
“Stop, stop!” they both say. Their voices are as hopeful as the words written on our flash cards. I do not stop.