snowflakes

I drank champagne the day you disappeared, when I should have been concerned about how we didn’t meet in the exact known place at the exact agreed time. Worry should have been fighting for the better of me. It all should have mattered. But you are a liar. I learned after my first marriage, liars don’t count. So I never counted on you showing up. I never counted on you for anything. I visited a friend in Soho who updated me about his wife and...

i am from

My darling sister Siki sent me the prompt "I am from..." a few days ago. After a few days of stirring, meditating, wandering around and dreaming, I sat down with hot coffee this morning and wrote some fresh words. Thank you Siki for including me in the exercise, such a lovely phrase to begin with! in order to be part of “I am from...” was heard quietly. Leaves rustling. Harp strings. Distant. You turn to another reflection pool, similar in...

at first glance

at first glance There’s a girl on the other side of a Hell’s Kitchen courtyard who smokes cigarettes out of her window while I blow puffs of something much thicker. And while I see her, I know she sees me, and it turns into this hide and seek game of ducking behind curtains while pretending to open and close sliding glass doors. But it’s evident that we see each other. And while I am unable to hone in on her blinking at me, I still somehow...

click. date.

I decide to start to collecting lovers again. With a smart phone, in New York City, it’s simple. www.click.person. The first response comes from Kentucky, but he was actually born in Washington State. “I grew up in Indiana though.” He owns a tattoo studio in Harlem. “And I deal drugs.” I wonder if he knew that I do days as a chief officer, he would still be so blunt. Not that it makes any difference to me. In my experience, selling...

unplanned derision

unplanned derision I found a license on the ground. Her name was Miranda Moore. I thought that sounded so glamorous, like Marilyn Monroe. I immediately began to weigh myself up next to Miranda, all 5 foot 11 inches of her. She’s probably a model. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Miranda lives in the East Village. I assume she does yoga at one of those trendy free places you hear people talk about in the alphabet city cafes where Miranda drinks fruit...

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