I wanted to live on Love Street when I grew up. To steal paperbacks about salvation sex and hide them under my bed. I told myself that one day the sound of my name would make a man sick and then well. The dog was my very first love. We were criminal friends. She’d sneak…
To the centipede I tried to kick down my drain but refused to go. I see you there. Being better than eighty-two percent of the men I’ve dated. You creepy-crawled out of the drain. I screamed like an old-fashioned actress. High-pitched and startling. Then, I toed you back down. Steam blossomed over the bathroom, a…
K Chiucarello: First, I want to say congratulations on your recent Paris Review publication. It is such an astounding essay. I was awestruck with the two lists you made, one in which you needed to make to stay alive and the other of what you wanted to accomplish in the future, these usually tangible things…
Of Photography and Truth
Image You’re always embarrassed in photographs, holding up your hand, saying wait, wait, and it’s your hair or your makeup or there’s something in my eye, and I breathe slowly, fighting the urge to say but you’re beautiful because you don’t want to know. Later, you swipe at the screen, saying delete, delete, delete. Exposure…
5 Flash About Life’s Beginning & 5 Flash About Life’s End
Stories about endings and stories about beginnings cannot be mutually exclusive. Every ending is a new beginning and every beginning is the end of what came before. This means that the pieces below could be placed in the opposing category with nary an argument. But each placement was chosen for a reason, and I’m interested…
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