I get in bed, move my mouth over her nipple.

“Do you mind if I moan?” she says.

I tell her this is all I’m getting, because this is all I deserve.

Getting chemical poisoning together seemed romantic, the closest you could come to being entombed, Pompeii-style, in each other’s arms.

I wanted you to count on me—if not as a lover, then at least as an object for your using.

Normalcy has no moment to collapse because it is absent from the start.

Sometimes he’ll cum on my face, and I’ll have to hear about it in one of his poems.

This place looks haunted as shit.

You touch everything you see. You want everything you touch.

Uncle Dale says, “We’re lucky that none of us can fly.”

your uncle has a whiteboard on his wall and on it it says TO DO: TELL TERRY YOU LOVE HER. he wrote that you don’t know how many years ago. terry was his girlfriend but she’s dead now

I felt like a fool in the rain as I sat under the shower head.

Molly, in its three hundred and twelve pages, transcends time and space, life and death.

Say thank you
for what they’ve done: the late night call
to AAA, the five spot for a hot dog, the cups
of coffee & scones

The fantasies I’ve been having
Are so awful

My mother’s screams woke me up.

I have come to teach you love / and the solitude that comes / with ultimate strength.

In late July, in the mid-nineties, I begged Mom and her fiancé Paul to buy me a big ball at Roses department store.

Showboat said he'd like to take me out sometime. I asked why.

“Because I think you’re attractive, and so we can hang out somewhere other than the coffee trailer,” he said.

It was October, ten

I want to perform for you, pretend to be good enough for you.

Do we keep our husbands’ secrets,
or distribute them like sweets 
amongst ourselves?