Superficial Flesh

Page 20

Bites Potato chips, the snack of pique, sweat-salty, bone-crunchy, greasy-defiant. Each greedy clutch leads to another, and each so-what chomp says, “Beat it. I’m busy.” My awkward scoop looks ample but I buzz through each one like a pencil sharpener getting to the point.

Karen Greenbaum-Maya 20


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