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Chloe Bryan is a writer who lives in Brooklyn. She is from Ohio, which means she likes chili spaghetti. She tweets at @chloebryan.

1 poem by Chloe Bryan



A kid in red pants is staring at the walls
in the post office. I want to tell him that wallpaper was invented
when Mr. Timothy B. Sarcus bought two hundred
thousand postcard stamps instead of two hundred thousand regular.
He planned to mail invitations for his divorce party; they were heavy;
he had to use the stamps for something else. I go home and Google
dimensions of a normal wall, then tell my humidifier: you know,
if you’re hungry, you should eat.

A bull has escaped in Queens, he’s trotting down Archer Avenue
and taking breaks in yards. Reporting this is easy: you just wait
for it to die. I pick up a cheeseburger from the red awning down the street.
That I am eating this meat is not lost on me. I imagine the kid’s mom --
she’s typing in Kinko’s on Google Maps. They ride to the store
on a bicycle, taking breaks at stoplights and on the quieter corners
where the puddles are vicious and deep. She prints out my tweet
about eating cow and glues it to her sweater. If you’re hungry,
eat something. I tell the wall: Don’t be afraid.

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