71. The corners of the mouth (providing nourishment)
You were there, we were all there, at the table. The light! I suddenly recognized the past. I wanted so much to explain.
Remember—? I was trying to say.
You didn’t know what I was talking about. It was all from the future. The room started filling up with strangers.
I got up finally, somebody was calling my name. The hallway was stinking with dead fish. I thought of all the times I didn’t die.
You, your burning hand, your open broken read-my-mind—I cut my thumb knuckle trying to teach myself to peel a potato like my grandmother would. In long, curving strokes. Toward the body.
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