Your sweat glistens like the pissy condensation on the side of the urinal at a dive bar. While your esteemed face flushes to the color of a raw pork chop. I’ve got so much time for metaphors now.
Maybe you should spend your time at the gym instead of luring in younger women, but it’s much too late now. So here you are straining with your shovel, musing that it’s not as easy as it looks on Netflix to my lifeless body.
When you came up on Tinder, I was like, hey, free dinner. You know. I just like to meet people. It was my bandmate that recognized you, the writer of a book that made her shiver.
Read more in Grim and Gilded, Issue 11 (February 2023)
Watch the Lenore’s Song short film (June 2023)
Amber Baird, Author 
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