This golden goose egg fried rice I am,
You sniffed me out immediately. I said
try the pate, wrong, like some monastic
haircut. I spoke in this illicit patois
that made you want to coddle me.
I was on a mission to fatten
You up, like a liver. I was
destined to live forever, with
You, so I said so.

You loosened. I got
Taut. I never asked you
to move in. You stuck
your neck out for me,
I guess, I had ten fingers
clenched behind my head
on an ax handle. I guess
you put your neck
on the chopping block
when you share bodies
with a passionate shepherd. I guess
whenever I see a long, thin neck
I have to get hands on it,
force feed it corn. I’m that sort.

— Lucas Mancini aspires to dizzying heights. Other words he wrote can be found on Twitter @margotfakir.

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