An Israeli pawnbroker on the Sunset Strip recalls you.
Begging for three dollars to buy a slice of pizza.
You made him so sad.

Says he almost started crying.
Remember when you were selling clumps of your hair on eBay?
An extracted molar of yours reached one hundred fifty dollars.
That tooth was pulled from the listings.
eBay restricts the sale of body parts.
And how did it feel?

When they spat you out?
When they spat on you?
I mean, just so suddenly, and you were nothing.
Nothing but a dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead star.
They didn’t care about you anymore, my friend.
Bankruptcy and muscle relaxants and I could’ve really helped you.
But I wasn’t even alive.

Myles Zavelo’s writing has appeared in the following publications: 
New York Tyrant Magazine, Muumuu House, 
Blue Arrangements, 
Spectra Poets, 
and elsewhere.

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