Category: Spring 2018

Strings of dollar bills hang from the ceiling as though they’d been put up to dry. Thousands and thousands of strings of dollar bills. Most of them crumpled into withering monetary lungs. They pack the small, dark, grey room
Along Namık Kemal Avenue men sell nectarines from pickup trucks— mounds of them someone’s fashioned into pyramids. I go past down toward the park thinking, poetically, of nectarines and you because I can’t decide on the color of your

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