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“Dear Pavement, The sun used to be the only thing to warm you, and now it’s body heat—a mingling recipe of human flesh and cockroach, of human flesh and rodent, of human flesh and tossed quarters. A cheek rests on you, a cheek capable of being kissed by a bishop, a cheek once held in a mother’s palm, a cheek that deserves more than the prickly pebbled pillow you are.” — Karl Kristian Flores
Dear Pavement,
The sun used to be the only thing to warm you, and now it’s body heat—a mingling recipe of human flesh and cockroach, of human flesh and rodent, of human flesh and tossed quarters. A cheek rests on you, a cheek capable of being kissed by a bishop, a cheek once held in a mother’s palm, a cheek that deserves more than the prickly pebbled pillow you are.