Tuesday April 3, 2018
From a storefront on West Broadway
When Kimbra takes the podium, we listen. We stop chewing bubblegum, and picking knee scabs, and looking at cutie-pie Hammy MacDonald with the freckles and the swimmer’s shoulders. Today’s debate is about Saddam Hussein and I don’t even know which side Kimbra’s on but she’s winning, she’s always winning.
“Look at her eyebrows,” Jimmy says and I am, and I do again, fresh slate, eyes blink, there they are the most perfect caterpillars.
“Do you think she waxes or plucks?” I say, not looking away.
“Neither,” whispers Jimmy, and goshdarnit, I think he’s right.