May 2, 2015

“I ate a septic mushroom and it was creamy upon my tongue. There were two septic mushrooms—I ate one, saved the other for a man with a gray face, then changed my mind, and ate the second as well. The septic mushroom tasted just as it was. It was meat and shit and fungus compacted in a mushroom body. Before I ate the mushrooms, I kept them in my hands. I turned them from side to side, examining the way the gills expanded and contracted as if they were fungal lungs. I touched the smooth stems. I looked at the spots upon the mushroom meat where the dirt chunks gathered. I examined, then cleaned with my fingernails.”


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