Tuesday, May 03, 2005


“When she gave birth to her third, my cousin fried hers up and ate it !! ” She oozes these words out of a mouth shaped by disgust. She shakes the look of disgust off of her face with peals of laughter. She ignites laughter in all of her guests. Therefore she is dissociated from the cannibalistic cuisine of her cousin.

Everyone continues laughing.

Everyone laughs except for one young woman who simply smiles as loud as she can. She clutches her handbag close to her. It is made out of the placenta from her first birth.

Therefore comfort is expelled from her heart.

Like an afterbirth.

Like a final sentence that emerges after a story has already been told.


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