It was the summer of Monica Lewinsky and Mark McGwire and Armageddon. I was on a short business trip to Philadelphia—a handholding, as it is known in the office. I was sent, via Amtrak, to coddle

When I first met Dawn, I didn’t know what a lexicographer was. I had to look it up. Later I admitted I hadn’t even realized that people still made dictionaries.

“Of course they do,” Dawn

Much has been said about that smile. I'm not in the business of describing smiles.

Let’s start this account of fuckfaces on October 18, 2006. I was 30 years old, recently engaged, in my third year of residency training at Chapel Hill, and depressed about the New York Mets. 

Otherwise you'll end up with a mouthful of husk shards. 

Once I googled “Can you bunt in football?”  Answers.com had a helpful “Answered by the Community” reply: “No.”

Season 6, season finale: Hank Moody attends AWP. Moral tragedy ensues.

She wore a gold necklace that read “Boy Toy” and she stroked it lustily as she spoke. It was the 80s and everyone’s taste sucked. 

An excerpt from WASTE: a novel

Elvira Moon loved bowling. For four straight years, her team, the Blooming Broads, dominated the women’s league, decimating all opponents until Big Tina quit to start her own team, the South Side Splitters, with that bitch Claudia from Couscous or whatever country she’d arrived from in a banana crate. 

He was riding down the street like you, contramano, and the image came of you on your bike, and I wished for the dream of the flying bicycle to return, the one where I find you again. 

When Sophie arrived home from the Strange Charm concert, she realized she was now in possession of an uncomfortable secret. The next day at work it replayed in her mind at least a hundred times. 

[Previously on... Part 7  |  Part 6  |  Part 5  |  Part 4  |  Part 3  |  Part 2  |  Part 1]

Sarah squeezed into a bathroom stall with Ralph. Outside her boyfriend sat at the bar, nursing yet another domestic beer.

THE HEART OF THE MATTER

If I had any money I would leave the country. There aren't any people here and I know them all. I only want to express myself, but you can't say things like

[Previously on... Part 6  |  Part 5  |  Part 4  |  Part 3  |  Part 2  |  Part 1]

Sometimes the two memories grow conflated in her thoughts, especially in her dreams.

For the thousandth time
I am describing our arms
and how they are
the perfect length

Nighttime near Fort Jesus.  We point our phones heavenward and hear about the latest rave death.

And it is easy, so easy / to welcome them into the poem.

I didn't imagine you could grow into your harness, that it could embed in your skin, that you could plod one circle for so long that actually stopping would open up the ache in your body.