The "elite" education, served tableside by an underpaid servant class.
Polite homophobia imagines that deviant sexuality should be enjoyed away from public view.
I calmed down a little bit.
But I was proud no child killed a bunny by accident this field day.
My son is in competition for an increasingly paltry prize. For something that never was a prize.
Everything feels dog-eared, on pause.
The laundry takes a while so I start quitting Facebook and Twitter during the spin cycle.
If you stare at a full moon like you shouldn’t at the sun, it will begin to pulse at you.