VIDEO AUSTIN DAVIS READS Flying Home From Indiana After Driving Past the KKK House in Irvington FROM SECOND CIVIL WAR
Flying Home From Indiana After Driving Past the KKK House in Irvington
I want to tell you it’s comforting to cry your eyes out on an airplane because the jet turbines to your left and the raindrops beating against the window make your tears sound faraway,
but I feel like a birthday party clown smoking a cigarette in the alley outside the bar who just popped his colored balloons, becoming one with the soft September night with the orange embers falling into the dark.
The family in the row behind me puts their heads down, afraid that empathy is a disease they might catch, that maybe if they just look away for long enough my tears won’t consolidate into the Blob from 1958 and eat them like angsty teens. I want to shut the fuck up
and stare with a poorly painted mask into the purple clouds, but I can’t seem to forget about the brick path in the back of my nightmare.
The one that curves down the hill past the long white house into infinite nothingness - the woods, the grass, the primroses with their heads cut off.