Dead flowers will not bloom on your nightstand. Petals curl as dust collects.
Do you remember? Senior class, 1985. The first night after graduation. We are free. Free to feel alive. Free to drive. We joyride your old man's car. Chevrolet Camaro, red. Like the lipstick you wore. You looked like a queen under a crown of big hair and false lashes. The radio blasts Madonna, we sing… Continue reading Talk about the Weather
Our neurons have told us a story that we've adapted into our lives, our sense of self. We're a fabrication. That's my inspiration; to be the best one ever told.
A day in August unlike any other; boats bobbing on the waves, miles of indigo sky, the sun an ethereal orb. You read Ann Rule on a red towel, I sink into the waves. A day in August unlike any other.
Watch for the dance of the rabbits. The buck chases the doe until she decides to stop and face him, she boxes him. If you want this, she appears to say, you must survive me. If one jumps and the other follows; the mating ritual is complete.
It's been three weeks and a day since the moment you were born yet it feels like I'm the one crying, breathing for the first time in a whole new world.
I miss you. I remember you through the newspaper, bold prints like your dinner party stories. Every Sunday brings you home to our porch, the one you built with John ten Springs ago. We used to stargaze in our rocking chairs and sip your family-recipe hot cocoa. Lemon meringue and summer afternoons aren't the same… Continue reading Lemon Meringue