配图 / Sergey Neamoscou
配图 / Sergey Neamoscou First Time Brushing Teeth Next to You When I say first time, that implies there will be a second, a fourth, a ninety-ninth. From far away our teeth must look like Tic Tacs, Chiclets, moons of a faraway planet. Nocturnal animals can smell better at night because scent lingers when the air is still, and so I smell the mint of our mouths but also the spill of peppers from the salsa dropped on your shirt. The greasy sidewalks we walked an hour earlier. Hotel soap freshly bubbled and wet in the dish. When I root through the thicket or the brush pile, my fur turns electric striped and tail-tumbled. I foam at the mouth. The mask on my face means bandit. Turns out I love the dark. My little paws want to grab everything and wash it. Aimee Nezhukumatathil #诗歌
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