The other day,
over cocktails
my friend Rupert
told me how he
puts away his soul
every night.
“I used to hang
it up in the
closet, but last
winter, we had
a moth problem.
Now I have to
fold it up and
put it in the
underwear drawer.
It is full of
holes and pulling
apart at the seams.”
“Billy,” I said,
“Have another.”
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