dreams about my father. what is he doing sending these increasingly psychotic postcards, signed Papa? what is this metaphor he keeps referencing about the Scarecrow?
i jump up & down on the bed to see if there's a fire in the woods, behind our house, or if it's the sun setting. it's the latter - for once.
feels like an airport novel. pre-kidnapping. chapter one. dread in my throat. when he shows up, he is ghastly. tears make a mess of his face. there is no roof on the house. i remember no wind, and no stars, but the smell of burning.
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