Tag Archives: Jeremy Jusek

Fluid Motion

I stored some memories in a bottle when I was nine. I didn’t find it again for twenty years. My hands crack when I run and shake when I slice vegetables. The tomatoes, jealous, demand I cry when I cut … Continue reading

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Parking Lot Paint

The car’s cubicle. They are the most self-indulgent strips of yellow I’ve ever seen. In between the last two coats of fresh paint I had seven haircuts. Fescue and clover, battered by tires, wave. The newest coat looks more orange … Continue reading

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