Dancing

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[audio:https://killauthor.com/audio/issuetwelve/thomas_patrick_levy_1.mp3|titles=Dancing|artists=Thomas Patrick Levy]

He told me THERE WILL BE DANCING and when I danced my legs moved beneath me like wasps and it was all I could do to keep away the cold.

His son wasn’t dying but he kept folding cabbage salad over in a bowl.

He said I WANT TO TALK AS LOUD AS A CRESCENT WRENCH. He said YOU ARE NOT MY SON BUT I WANT TO PAINT MY FACE ONTO YOUR FACE SO I DO NOT GROW SICK.