"in Budapest I once sat in a wicker chair beneath a mass of potted ivy fronds in the cluttered living room of an old woman with a tattooed number on her forearm, struggling to make small talk as her caged mynah bird kept squawking the Hungarian word for 'happy'." --Justin Smith-Ruiu ["boldog"?]
You walk into a rural church in Wales.
"Se Tungolboda"
skwuff-skwumf to you
in the snow-pass of snazzle
a squib's snide
streaking across crags
i am otherwise urned with
& crazily itch at
Just received an urgent text from Whistler, British Columbia.
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