Photo by Didriks
Everything about you makes me want to buy knives from an upscale department store. I will become a collector of knives. A connoisseur of serrated edges and elegantly curved handles pressed against my life line. It is short and shallow. I am easily controlled by others. The high-fashion woman at Macy’s recognizes me, and I wonder what I’d say if she asked me when the big day is and if I’ve registered yet. Oh, I just love knives. I have knives and knives and knives and nothing else. I can cut a soup can in half. There are no forks or spoons. I eat diced peaches out of a plastic container with my fingers. The juice dribbles everywhere.