Lyndsey Cohen

She Used To Be A Waitress In Poughkeepsie

The postman came to the door and told Gladys to get spiritual. It feels like a hot bath, he said. She tried to stay positive, but his eyes kept blinking. Do you know how to time travel, he asked. Do you know how to bury in the winter. Gladys wanted to make steak tartare and then cartwheel through the living room. She wanted to be a lamp post or a chimpanzee. But the postman had only two buttons buttoned on his shirt, and he just stood there with his mouth hanging open. She should have been a hunter, she thought. She should know how to kill something with her hands.