the woman behind me orders french onion soup and pico de gallo. and immediately i respect her. a woman who dares to want it all! she orders a rum drink to wash it down with. i think to turn around and see who this animal is. this woman with ambition! i think there’s probably something […]
Tag: autofiction
from august (in my summer skin)
my brother and i stand watching as a fire burns a bunch of stuff we don’t want anymore. “if i had a dollar for every time i had a garbage fire since mom died, i’d have, like, thirty dollars,” i say. “more than that,” he says. i nod in agreement. i’ve been burning stuff for […]
at the end of the earth, tell me i’m yours
the woman i love is going to red hook this weekend to give a talk about her book with another author, a guy named sean thor conroe, who wrote fuccboi. no gatekeeping here – it’s a book about him being a fuck boy. the wikipedia page for it flaunts his use of “bro-speak”. i’ve never […]
lay me down
i’ve been getting an evening massage every week for the last month or so in attempt to reverse what i’m convinced is years taken off my life due to the stress of the past decade. i typically see a woman named kathryn, who has both nostrils pierced, tattoos, and soft eyes behind clear, pink-framed glasses. […]
our bodies are a beautiful country
r- sits in my candlelit living room reading jorge borges. he sips from a glass of my good californian whiskey. my dog and i lay on the sheepskins nearby, listening. i finish a cup of half chamomile tea, half milk. a bit of honey. i think about how r- is a teacher and try to […]
