Fuse Composite If you told me I would step over a body, in broad daylight, when I was ten. I likely may have objected. The sun is barely up when I see him at first. Nose tucked to knees. Wool hat on a warm day. Stepping over him doesn’t bother me, I don’t get that far. When I see him; I turn the other way. It is not a usual switch to rejection that I am hitting a stranger with right now. It is an open lack of desire to know more. I’ve...
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,...
crushed commitment My husband pawned his wedding ring for $275 two months after I gave it to him. He drank the money and fell asleep on Avenue B. When he came home the next day, he lied about everything. He lied about where the ring was. He lied about the drinking. He lied. Again. I tenderly removed my ring and tucked it in the silk-lined box I saved after purchasing the set I couldn’t afford. The money he took from a grey-eyed woman with...
mona's ocean Mona is a young girl with... nobody. Mona has always been a very lonely girl. Mona inherited eyes the color of the Irish Sea from an uncle named Patrick with a fondness for whiskey and a habit of women. Women like the black braided Brigitte. Brigitte paints sky portraits of the places she sees whenever she visits far away lands. Her most recent collection, the Patrick’s Heart series, can presently be viewed in Amsterdam. Mona’s...
I came across this piece from 2003 today, written after I left the city for what would end up being a year, or nine... I left New York City. It was the day after a spider-legged woman stepped out of a stretch limousine, nearly tripped over a homeless man, and entered into an exhibit in SOHO to decide what starving painter she would feed with her dead husband’s money. The owners of the studio seemed so pleased with the turn out. He met me at...