Sunday, July 12, 2009

Cranky Friend

by James P. McCampbell

1989. On a lazy summer day, I stood in my backyard with a green snake nestled in my shirt pocket. It would poke its head out, to nip me on my chin. It was a protest of its unjust captivity to me, a lord of weirdness. It once told me “I just used the bathroom.”

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