I gave thanks to the summer gods, who put us together, and didn’t question the cause, and processed my flummoxed adolescent emotions in Meat Loaf songs.
Going Through Imprints From Summer
At Your Service
My job is to give you a fine dining experience. The one where you cackle at my playful banter and leave nothing but cookie crumbles on the booth, a token of your humble gratitude.
Spring Nocturne, April 2022; Poissons (Sans Pains), Avec Du Vert, Etc. (upon Picasso’s Night Fishing in Antibes, 1939); Lush Life; Go Fish
It’s still sleeping-off the hoarfrost, heat drying wet night air, brute & fowl tucked into dwarf cottonwood, chollla...
A Conversation Between a Scorned Mistress and a Useless Widow; Stone Fruit; Mary Janes; Five Stages of the Moon
I. I am the scorned mistress, says the scorned mistress nakedly. She gives up the brilliant golden burnish of girlhood in the time it takes for the motel bathwater to run dry.
Tuesdays; For Ophelias; Motherland; Backyards and BBQs; House Guests
You bought sunflower seeds, planted one for each of us. I watched you weed them until they grew four feet.
Sucker Punch; On Tremor; On Gratitude; My Mother, Post-Proposal; Sabbatical
Blessed I am to not be twenty two shoveling confetti cake into my mouth from the kitchen floor after a birthday party he showed up to three hours late.