Every night, I turn into a wolf’s mistress. On our paws, we pounce together into a meadow. Gorging on rain-stained grass, we howl at those who call us mad. We howl for them.
This Is a Story About Washing Your Hands
I try not to cry so often. I do get angry because when everyone else is out freezing their butts on icy metal bleachers at the football game, I am here scrubbing your blue wax mess off the wall. I am washing food out of your hair while my peers go to parties. I imagine their sleek, pressed ponytails and laid edges and I cannot remember the last time I did my hair instead of yours. I have more gray hairs than I have friends. I cook dinner that you will not eat because I forgot you don’t eat anything red...
Obsession
Hiking was Tom’s hobby. She texted him a photo of snow-coated mountain tops from her seat in the plane with the caption, “guess where I am?” Tom never responded. She still stares at that message, waiting.
These realities of All falling down
Can’t do it. No. At Dell’s such is not true. We are our own bosses. We are all drum-trained for eight weekends of personalized DNA based mastisticized one-on-one bootcampery, that we are self-managing. We are responsible for our own development. If laws have been broken, contact local law enforcement. Otherwise, as Everest stands on its own, so do we.
Agni’s Reluctant Body-Partner
Sometimes I pitied Amma for having to relentlessly perform her role and live up to Appa’s expectations. The roles and rules were very clear. Amma and I were occupants of this house. Appa was the owner. Amma was a tenant in their marriage, Appa, its owner. It didn’t leave me with a rosy picture of marriage.
Come A Little Bit Closer
She gave some reason for the cancellation, something about a family event that slipped her mind until about an hour before our meet up. I suspected she was clearing her schedule for someone higher on her roster, but I didn’t say anything. “It’s okay,” I told her over the phone, and was the first to hang up.
