i'm a short book, one you couldn't possibly be interested in. outdated. riddled with lies. repetitious. unillistrated. but i still dream of kisses. every morning i realize i still don't know anything about love. i'm like a bad family of books. idiots and mad cousins; orphaned grandchildren; dreamy geniuses; stained tile; running water; juvenile magazines; a pilgrim. i have not outgrown my childhood freckles or enthusiasms. for some people, history is simply what your wife looks good standing in front of. recorded memorabilia. i love the taste of other people's words in my mouth. we are people whose dreams run in particular ways.
what i give you is today's edition. tomorrow may be different.
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