Mudlark No. 48 (2012)


Stationery, beer, paper towels, no-doze
tablets, dried apricots. A space capsule must
have unloaded here. Wait, face powder, mas-
cara, magazines, one-hour photos,  travel-
size toothpaste, volumizer shampoo (all of
us losing hair, breathless on the go). Showing 
ID for narcotic Rx’s. Signing 
on the wobbly line next to numbered stickers’
benefits. If you want to live forever, 
this is the place to be. Open that whole-grain 
bag of crisps. Inhale now and moan among not-
animal-tested fragrances. Someone on 
the front page of the paper in its gleaming
rack—it’s certainly you. Hollow-eyed. Smiling.

John Allman | Literary Man
Contents | Mudlark No. 48 (2012)