He struggles to come up with actions that give him a sense of joy or purpose when she is not around.
Do I break up with my Venezuelan surfer and move back to Alaska? I debated. Or bring him to the U.S. and marry him?
Abigail’s face blotched with hot blood. I made my way to the back of the room, ordered a whiskey at the open bar, repainted my lips cherry red.
Yesterday, The Coffee Cart Guy on 38th and 6th had sex with Rachel on the floor of his metal breakfast cart.
The humid air mingling with my warmth stretches my sense of self this morning. Settling again into my day, I guide myself to the kitchen to make my breakfast. The routine comforts me. I’m tragically
He says he feels like all his problems would be solved if he stopped going to that bar.
he flashed a toothless grin, all James Dean California Cool, a tan blonde blue-eyed surfer type. I imagined him as the boys Lana sang about.
Things that make sense: plants, deer, video games, sushi, beer.
When taking drugs of this caliber – drugs that show you death’s light – there is always some part of you that wants to die.
The artist class?
Wild as the jungles they came from,
where boas flexed around their trunks —
like my other brushes with miracles,
the men who love you back, how they come
to you, gorgeous and invasive,
Jimmy’s thing was his violent ability in soccer. Bismarthalou’s was in his preposterous name and the mystifying way in which he spoke of his potentially fictitious motherland.
I had started doing aerobics and running in place in our townhouse living room when Chad was at the golf shop. I’d found a recipe for whole wheat banana bread and I made a loaf every Sunday and every
“There’s no reason to spread melodramatic rumors about the delay of the album,” she says
He stole my Tupperware, the largest one in a glass Pyrex set.
I was telling stories. I was enjoying music. I was proselytizing. I was observing.
His white face is red. Mom taught me that people turn red like tomatoes when they’re drunk. I look around and see pink and red faces all around me.
She was the sudden presence that filled the delivery room like a creation spirit pressing his thumb to make a wrinkle in space.
The body rotates its symbols / like a stereoscope
I fall asleep on the First Date. It happens when we're cresting the chain hill of a roller coaster called Sallie Mae.
Sex would remain forever yoked to this school shooting, grief combined with an uncanny moment of clarity: life won’t be the same after this, regardless.
When he stands in the living room fully erect, wearing nothing but blue corduroy shorts cut off so high the pockets peek out, he holds a bicycle chain lock above his head victoriously, like a sword from stone; a makeshift weapon, we can see it’s stained with another man’s blood.
