new drink

Home was okay until I decided to actually read my copy of The Bell Jar instead of throwing it away or just reading it in high school like a normal person. Around this time the thick skies began to make a valley of the city, and the air everywhere grew stale. I woke to find Gucci Mane perched on the edge of my bed, gazing at me in a loving, paternal attitude. He said his name was Solomon. I said, "Did you go to Castle Heights Elementary?" He said no. I said, "There was a boy named Solomon who tortured me there; it is my only memory of the first grade." Then he turned to reveal, stretched above his bulging belly, a faded child-sized T-shirt emblazoned with the gold Castle Heights insignia, and he said, "Just kidding! I AM Solomon!" Then he apologized for the torture, explaining it was a "UN/GMO thing." I wondered if Solomon was from Somalia, and if that would be a coincidence. Then my dad was saying unto me, "See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these," and I was struck by the stark simplicity.