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reader, writer, unregenerate comma-splicer |
The Lad and Dan met a woman in Athens who knew Henry Miller. Did she know my best friend (and also Robyn’s best friend) Anais Nin?
When he comes home, I will kiss the hand of the Lad who shook the hand of the woman who shook the hand of the man who touched the mouth of Anais fucking Nin. In this way, decades late, I will kiss Anais Nin myself, like delayed starlight moving from my living mouth to her dead and darkened planet.
13 Responses to You must never wash your hand again