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my dead friends
walk backwards at night time is still and time reverses as a child i watched twin peaks in the night crosslegged on the dog-hair-matted carpet with bated breath i was laura palmer only younger and not dead riding my bike with bloody knees on empty small town streets because it was more freedom than home blue couch closed curtains cigarette smoke in the light of the tv the half moon table in the kitchen held the only phone the only connection to the outside world besides the two doors that no one ever dared to knock on my bedroom felt like an attic a slanted closet door a lead-painted window that stuck stubborn in the summer and winter the bookshelf and tv were the only things that were allowed to tell secrets
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
April 2023
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