i inhale a drag of my herbal cigarette
i’m in my tiny office with my painted yellow walls
the warm amber light makes me feel cozy
why can’t everything feel like warm amber?
why can’t fluffy comforters be wrapped in angels?
1978 Langdon Ave will always be my matzah ball soup
my Jachnun
my Malawach
i don’t know
maybe i’m just hungry
hungry for the clovey taste of t…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to how to love the world to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.