I know,” he says, still holding my wrist, “Is that I’ve seen every side of you.”
we first met I could’ve sworn the guy was blind, emotionally if not in any
other way. I’d seen him around – on campus, at the café where he worked
blending up slow-acting caffeinated poison, in the parking lot where we first
exchanged words. They weren’t nice words. He’d tapped my bumper and like that,
the damage was done. Honda on Honda, CR-V versus Insight. The goody-goody
always gets it in the end.
just saw a fucking exchange on Facebook that made me understand how necessary
BEARDED LADY is to this world. A friend of mine had put a beard filter on her
photo through Snapchat and the idiots went nuts. You can only imagine.
understanding that we are all freaks, therefore none of us is.
You feel rather than hear your parents move,
adult bodies big, cutting the quiet dark;
world a beloved muddle
mostly managed by others,
and you're smart enough
not to yet feel gratitude;
life a moon, incomprehensible,
shining like a nightlight
beside your bedroom door.
I'm a writer and storyteller in Berkeley, CA. If you're wondering where that is, follow the smell of patchouli and skunkweed. There you'll find me with my kickass husband, gorgeous little boy, and manic Lab-Australian Shepherd mix pups. I'm represented by Miriam Altshuler of DeFiore & Co., but of course, my views are my own.