Sunday Light and Word – Lymph Fatigue





Aug 10 Full





I could see the failure of sleep but that was only an idea I sold myself at sunrise. The waitress at the Waffle House had a run in her stocking exposing a varicose web on the back of her calf. No sleep. There was a box by the dumpster, crushed and lonesome, done with its utility. America’s best coffee. I couldn’t stand the stuff. All jittery with no burst of emotional superiority. The awfulness of the tungsten light blinking out of the street lamp like a shawl around my shoulders. This is the place I gave up on fatigue, I thought to myself, ready to dislodge the memory in favor of nothing.



By Hank Cherry

About Hank Cherry

Hank Cherry works as a photographer, filmmaker and writer in Los Angeles. His work has appeared in Slake, Southwestern American Literature, Poydras Review, and The Los Angeles Review of Books and he writes a column about the history of jazz for Offbeat. He is in post production on his first full-length documentary.
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