One Line Memoirs by Devon Miller-Duggan

I refuse to be the Fisher King.

Because I saw it in a movie, I knew to lean deeply over the back of the saddle when my horse started straight down a steep hill.

Years later, I find out that the teacher who stole my art work had used my name while sleeping with the teacher who offered me a rose for my cleavage one day in high school.

I remember from 39 years ago the interior dome of a Borromini church we can’t find in Rome now.

Married exactly the man I saw in my head when I was 6, except he has no dog.

Always intended to leave Delaware.

I’m never thinking about angels, so why do I keep making them?

I should be grading.

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