chapter from a children’s book

Sometimes I write those too... well, I did while I was in Australia. Maybe again down the line. Chapter One from I'm going where it snows. A story about a little boy in a hot Aussie climate who just wants some relief from the sweltering heat. Mum and Dad refuse to buy an air-conditioner. “Billy,” my Dad begins while I watch his bushy, blonde moustache wiggle back and forth. It’s too hot to move, and the sweat dripping down my body has me...

breakfast in bermuda

Wearing black in Bermuda sets a fast impression that you might be on your way to a funeral. Unless it’s accompanied with a tie or stockings. In that case, tourists and locals alike can tell. You’re in town on business. You’ve hopped the short flight from New York to Hamilton to speak in numbers. Talk in terms of billions. Terms you never imagined engaging in. When you drink two Bloody Marys with your toast for breakfast at a local cafe,...

an airport encounter

When I first saw you, you were standing in Tullamarine airport, holding a two pound hunk of rose quartz. Prior to my focus landing on your salt water locks and rainforest stare, the stranger I flew 10,000 miles to familiarize with, to remember, a school of other thoughts raced through my mind. Tullamarine? Really? I’m from New York... we only speak Kennedy. My head hurts. Is it from 23 hours with flight attendants? Or 23 hours without...

the appointment

My body is healed, my spirit is mended. In the waiting room, at the appointment, there are five framed photographs hanging on the wall. Four are bright and colorful. Farms, a field, a tropical waterfall. Each spilling azure skies and multi-hued shocks of green into the white room. None of these capture my interest, really. The fifth one does. A black and white photo of a suburban city block. Buildings linking one side of the sidewalk. Neatly...

uninvited guests

I am sitting across from a girl who is the sister of a man I used to fuck a number of years ago, long before my second marriage. She was in eighth grade back then, her clothes were too big and her thoughts too small. She would spy on us having sex in their parents’ pool. I caught her once. We made eye contact. My husband knows he has no reason for jealousy. If ever we are apart, we miss each other in desperate ways. Like looking for candles...

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