freak book
my uncle had books of curiosities hidden among the standards between Shakespeare and Whitman these tall volumes like oversized comic books full of photos. on visits i would dig them out. they were far more educational than the classics: multiple piercings full body tattoos political ideas suggestive practices. freaks. a sideshow in that sunlit midwestern living room. run away and join our circus, they said, your beard will grow, you’ll learn the trapeze. i found out which volume i belonged in, chewing my lip on the braided rug. i fit right there in between the tattooed girl and the fire eater. i grew up to be both a tattooed girl and a fire eater. posted in a dark seething city intersection swallowing the flame leaving the night completely black.
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