Because of him, she bought her first pair of thong underwear. She paints her sad, short fingernails. She looks at the mirror as he fucks her from behind, wondering about her ass. Cellulite? Ingrown hair? She takes action, exfoliating, sweating in the sauna, hours of exercise.
Read MoreWe double-dutched in seventh grade and beat the girls from room 209 to win that trophy made of wire hangers and cardboard then went for pizza, grease sliding off the cheese like syrup. We chewed the rim of Styrofoam cups, spitting at one another and laughing. Then from our identical porches only a few feet away, I saw the pink and black thread from your friendship bracelet coming undone.
Read MoreYou can spend your time in the card aisle, but it’ll most likely just be wasted. There’s not much solace in those cards, not much heart or feeling or sincerity. Just little words like “Sorry” or “Condolences” that just translate to “I didn’t take the time before and I can barely be bothered now.”
Read More“Well, what about tomorrow after lunch,” she suggested, squinting up at him even with her sunglasses on. He was tall and she liked that. He was looking somewhere beyond her, over her left shoulder though his body was turned toward her close enough, she could tell he was looking at the three women who had just walked by them, she could still see their silhouettes in his glasses.
Read MoreLed Zeppelin has a history in my pants. They’ve lived and migrated all up and down my bra and underwear. They took up residence up in my pants when I was a heaping 14-year-old, crossing over from Depeche Mode, Echo and the Bunnymen, to make a passage backward in time with the drop of the needle on vinyl.
Read MoreEven if it means no nachos, I don’t want to do any more of that hateful teaching! People who have never done any teaching seem to have difficulty understanding how I feel about this. Jesus, I’m drunk as a stolen hard drive. My hands are crying.
Read MoreJude discharges liquid through her mouth all morning. She suffers from the opposite of motion sickness—she can’t handle the stillness. I take her to the mountains to find the longest, the curviest road. A road that starts and stops without expectation.
Read MoreI don’t think Ferdinand should make any decisions about what to do with his life today. Nor should Mother. I, on the other hand, am no longer young and vital, and if I don’t make any decisions, they will certainly be made for me.
Read MoreThe obsession started when he was young. Coke cans. We were never sure why. They had to be Coke Classics, and they had to come from an Atlanta bottling plant. It took seven hundred and ninety-three to completely fill his wall space, an odd number because he left a spot for his light switch.
Read MoreOne late summer evening, the air had finally cooled and a Twain-ish kind of peace was aloft on the breeze. I decided to go for a walk and clear my mind before retiring. While & within my steps, I looked up and remembered how beautifully clear heaven can be.
Read MoreScott was so literal. We told him “break a leg” before he went on stage, and then he fell down the prop stairs and snapped his tibia in two places. The show didn’t go on for Scott. He was taken by ambulance to Riverside Community, and his understudy had to stuff his hair under a skin cap quick.
Read MoreMy mother says that she was young too, once upon a time. She says this in the cold dressing room of a department store the day before we leave for our last trip overseas. The people around us smell strong, like the babysitter she just fired who used so much perfume my nose hurt and kept frying bacon I wasn’t allowed to eat.
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