wash me in burger grease and lightly salt mean American baptismsecluded in the Church walls of an old RVconvert me into a Backyard Barbecue BelieverI want to drown in the Independence Day pool partycleanse me of my olive skinbleach me with chlorine and hot dog juicestuff me with a new mind like a Thanksgiving Turkeymy old heart is as valuable as that of an artichokeI want to feel the caloric buzz in my bloodstreamI want to be the last foot marching in the paradeI want to fade into the crowd, the angry mob, the happy peopleI want to be no one but a collective entityI'll kill the foreignerto feel alive here
About the Creator
Julia Corrado
Young storyteller.
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High Rise, Deep Impact
I have witnessed a death that I relive every time I step into an elevator. Although it no longer affects me as deeply—given that it's been 11 years since the incident—it remains a heart- rending memory from my first and last day as a paramedic. My initial call to the scene involved a man who seemed to have fallen down the elevator shaft of a high-rise building. Alternatively, it might have been that the elevator moved upwards while he was working on it. Different scenarios were being considered when I arrived.
By Penelope Henain2 days ago in Writers
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