The Beekeeper Swallowed by his jumper, he slipper shuffles along the cracked concrete path. Papery palms - used to taking the strain on a tug o'war team, struggle to turn the handle, on an Aladdin's Cave he doesn't remember building. A hodge podge of cobwebby tools, his bee suit and smoker. He mines the memory, clouded eyes twinkle - his cellophaned honey section in Centra and a woman's finger in it. Christina Hession
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