Zoe Fluck and Chloe Zuck
were always partying sober,
tanning in the summer
but never getting their makeup
to look good.
When Zohad a breakdown
during an autumnal equinox,
(she went to bed and just stayed
there for a couple weeks),
Chloe was regularly seen
Novocaine-faced,
lounging in big baggy pants and
wearing colored contacts that felt
like little metal Frisbees.
The day Zoe finally got Chloe
on the phone,
their conversation was clearly
from the unconscious.
"I had a dream," Zoe said.
"Oh, God," Chloe said.
"I hate it when people retell their dreams."
"No, you'll appreciate this one.
I was wearing big white fur pants and
my father kept telling me
I was sexually ambiguous..."
"Well," Chloe said.
"I read a book that said if we sleep
in a certain direction facing the moon,
it helps us to achieve amazing new
depth or breadth or some bullshit..."
It was April before Zoe and Chloe
were back to their usual hooliganism,
walking around in oversized corduroy overcoats,
funky hats, really tight flannel pants, and
taking potshots at Orange County.
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