We the shit-zombies walking dead in search of new slums, as on-site manager Wanda Muffkan followed close behind, picking our pockets of loose change, digging through our shit-covered boxes to find photographs of our families to burn.
Suffering Roderick Usher’s “morbid acuteness of the senses,” I left the fallen houses for a city by the sea in the Western lands, the north country, where I‘m settling into a small but quiet room with skylights and trees. Sunlight drifts in with jasmine and lemon leaves; the air is empty and sweet. The dog shit of my body slowly grows skin. The smell subsides. My cat grows fresh fur and sleeps beside me.
REFERENCES
How To Survive a Nuclear Attack
(www.cas.ilstu.eduEnglish351hypertext98kosshow2survivemultimedianukemm.html)
Dog Bite Law
(www.dogbitelaw.comindex.html)
Guard Llamas
(www.llamas.co.nzguard.htm)
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