I stand by my front door with car keys in hand, flip-flops on my feet, panic in my heart.
"Let me get this right: I am going to take this gigantic menopausal body," I wave my hand like a Price is
...
[+]
again at Selby Jr.
in my comfortable
apartment
with a balcony
in the Dublin
northside. Last Exit
doesn't work now
and neither does
Requiem. I first
came across them
in elbowish rooms
in Toronto and the north
end of London. something
of the copper
of bones here,
I thought. something
of life—a toilet
by the stove
and four feet
from the bedclothes. and art
needs discomfort
to appreciate
properly. Selby
doesn't function
when the water
heater does.