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bodypolitics andrea Dillon

First I will wallow in my addiction. Later I will discuss cunts and enlightenment. I am addicted to caffeine. I once tried to shake my addiction but quickly gave up caring. I came into an espresso machine that a rich man left in the office. He left it in the office not because he forgot it or was displeased by it, but because he is rich. I took it from the office. This is because I am not rich. I am upper-middle class, the lower end. Do you understand? The machine takes single-use pods that rich people

mail order from storage units in Europe. The pods come in black, brown, gold, silver, green, and purple. I bought espresso grounds from the café down the street. “Do you have a tamper?” asks the barista. “No,” I say. “You should get a tamper,” she says, and wishes me luck. I tamp with a plastic spoon and shove the grounds as far as I can into the sinuses of the machine. Water ceases to flow into my cup.

Issue 45 Fall 2011  

Clerestory Journal of the Arts

Issue 45 Fall 2011  

Clerestory Journal of the Arts

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