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Mira Ptacin reads an excerpt from her debut memoir, Poor Your Soul, published in January by Soho Press.
Poor Your Soul
I know some things. I know you set the backyard on fire. It was autumn. You were six years old. The oak leaves were dry and crispy. You and your pal Don Johnson, that blond-haired, blue-eyed kid from St. Philip Elementary School who threw up every time he got excited, were playing in the backyard. I’m assuming you guys found the matches in the pile on Dad’s workbench.
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