Too many of my days pass in dry blinks and blurred moments between phone calls, text messages, and the never-ending flash of a notification to remind me of one-more-thing To Do before I can be Done. I burn, I pine, I perish-- for when I was young and blonde and had yet to carve the wrinkles … Continue reading April 10 : On Adulthood
Shhf-shhf-shhf... polyester coats rub against armrests and lights dim as speakers surge-- a signal to be quiet. But cellophane crackles like static and a greedy palm fills with hard-shelled candied noisemakers readily popped and crunched between teeth. Salted, greasy fingers rummage in waxed bags before giving the kernels a good toss-- shick shick-- to find that perfect puffed piece. A rasping, lisping … Continue reading April 9 : A Not-So-Quiet Place
A blustery Sunday afternoon, snow falling in fat too-wet-to-stay flakes mixing with slow raindrops more typical of early spring. I'm bundled inside a worn leather booth, warmed by the industrial heater vent above me and the pitcher of boozy lemonade sweating on the table. A lazy hour ticks by and I'm swimming in it now, … Continue reading April 8 : Sunday in Spring
It starts simply enough-- a new thing needs a new home so I scrape the pages and piles from the desk and wipe a rough rag across its face. Then the drum head perched rather precariously above looks like it needs the same attention. As I hang the hand-painted Reaper again on its nail a … Continue reading April 7 : Clean
Porchlight floats in soft through threadbare curtains crisscrossing our shadows with the kitchen's single-bulb glow while we stand slowly swaying, bare feet dancing in tiptoed steps, quietly on the crushed carpet. The stereo is low but the night is late and the music sounds like surround as he curls me against his chest before casting … Continue reading April 6 : Requiem
Typewriter Moon 