Hour 11: Laughter

Sporadic chattering, the twisted breasts of a tree, like an aging woman turning to look behind her, arms outstretched above her head.

Is she stepping out of the shower? Why is the bark so smooth? Shining like wet skin.

A talking smile speaks with rolling bursts of sound, his head falls back and his shoulders shake, the table at his stomach trembles, bent knees jerk apart unseen beneath the table, the inside of his thighs are hairy, like uncooked ham that has fallen on a dirty floor.

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