Russell
Edson lived the life of a hermit on Weed Ave in Stamford,
Connecticut. Russell lived with his wife, Francis, who went off to teach
children at school every day. Other than Francis, I wonder how many conversations with
other women Russell had.
THE CONVERSATION
There was a woman whose face was a cow's milk bag, a pink pouch with four dugs pointing out of it . . .
A man with a little three-legged milking stool comes. She stoops and he begins to milk her face . . .
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