she had been promised a soft pretzel when she was 8. he had made the promise of refined grain and rock salt in an attempt to shut her up on the way to the smithsonian. this ran her mind as she lit the cigarette in the parking lot of the drug store.
as she drove down the pike, she thought of that lie and the others she had been told. barbie trucks, mocking birds, nicotine. all of these promises worked in her like the buckwheat that was not digesting from dinner.
she promised her stomach that the feeling would go away, that all things came and went. and in the doubling over, in the roll of her gut, she saw the pretzel. it was twisted like the promises that she had made to herself: the lies that are the most truth within us.
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diggin for brass on shady lane
1 comment:
You are amazing
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