at my aunt’s house, someone is reading Kevin’s old letters. There’s one in there about the doll. the doll is in the trunk. it’s a rubber and latex doll that looks just like kevin. super fucking creepy. but, people are in mourning so you can’t say that politely. we put the doll back. at home […]
More tornado dreams. And my grandparents. And cousins. And laundry. And fuel. And an aborted or miscarried brother in a peanut butter jar? Like under the peanut butter, hidden there, for me to find and bury… Somewhere.