I don’t want some people
to know the real me,
because I feel like
they’ll understand me
better than I understand myself.
Another Atticus-y marvel. Not necessarily the vibe I thought I’d be bringing to Poetry Night, TBQH.
Sally Garnatah writes silly things. Some of Sally’s stories are true. For legal purposes, consider all of these posts to be … autofiction, if you can stomach that kind of quasi-pretentious literary stuff. Sally doesn’t read autofiction, though. She’s too much of a country girl. You can find her down by the Tennessee River, out in the woods, standing in a sorghum field — or you can find her right here, on her blog. View all posts by Sally
Jamais Mayville