Dear Jane,

The TikTok girls are mad at you.

BIG TIME

okay i’ll be doing my best to     explain myself, to     say i did the best i could with what i
had and you     did the same      my mom will be bringing home ice cream soon
     she

It was during the seventh experiment that I died, or I think I died—I mean, I must have died because if I hadn’t there surely would have been a lawsuit of some sort, and I’d know about it by now if I hadn’t died. Maybe I’d be filthy rich and wouldn’t have to keep signing up for these research studies and tests just to pay my bills. And to buy my pills.

The man who used to be my husband wanted to hook up.  “Right here,” he said after parking our Nissan Sable in the road we used to live on and killing the headlights

Holistic Medicine

Hungover, I google How To: Self-Care.
A recipe for kale juice guarantees
wholesomeness. I buy a juicer, stain
the counter with spilt optimism.

Attend laughter yoga, trick

I stared at the other campers, who stared into the center, screaming through their disbelief at what they were screaming.

So I wanted to bang this exvangelical guy and it's about to get worse:

After last night, I’m no longer allowed at The Mint Bar. You could say it’s because I choked the owner’s daughter up against the wall next to the jukebox that only plays Cash songs—pushed her hard enough that a quarter fell from the coin slot—or you could say she deserved it.

Is it weird to call Dave Housley the “Uncle” of lit mags? He’s that guy, the writer/editor/generally amazing human that everyone in the literary world seems to know. Dave is one of the original

We are a thousand couples. A million maybe.

A Perfect Pitch

Throwing under-handed
his fastball started curving
over home plate
so I swung at the pitch
and bought the bat for my son
which was too heavy for him
in his first little league

I’m in accounting. Sally in the lab. Among her other duties, Sally is an odor judge. Her nose is rather ordinary to look at, what my grandma might have called a button nose. But Sally’s nose is legend.

The man wearing a Ray Lewis jersey doesn’t know who Ray Lewis is.

Dream Vision of Frank O’Hara

    it is 4:40 and I’m drenched in moonstone, sequins, fishnets, and general getting-out
    of-bedness at the corner of 11th Avenue and 30th hoping for something

We beat Brock Shamos every day. We beat him with jump ropes we stole from Mr. Randall’s P.E. class

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE

trembling     string between two cans
     across town     fry-gravel longing compressed      voice-tightrope
transposed, delivered to you     I don't know how it happens-

FOMO

It’s hard to look back
when your neck is pressed
against a wall of ignorance and bliss

I don’t know my history
‘cause I didn’t see it happen

I guess it was
during the bathroom

We are always looking for something to cure us of the pain of being made of fallible meat.

The Chetrams were from Trinidad and listened to Bollywood music on the weekends. They were good, hardworking people. Their kids were polite. They were not Muslims as far as their neighbors could tell, since Chetram liked Miller Lite and the daughter wore high-waisted shorts in the summer. It was not polite to inquire.

Transpacific Passage through my Hungers

I wake up famished
after dreaming of my Halmuni.
Her sturdy hands spooning galbijjim
into wooden bowls. At first light, I Godzilla
Google maps for every

The first time I went to Paris, I was seventeen and stayed with a man who was thirty-three, Sylvain.

My child could draw that.

So Mom didn’t come with us to the grocery
store, but she insisted when a box of Grape Nuts
or Popsicles tasted off it was because we hadn’t
selected the box behind the first, that hiding
in the

It sat in my wallet while I made out with a guy during the “Josie and the Pussycats” movie

I never mixed meth with hooking. Not once. I didn’t want to ruin it! (Meth, I mean.)

Be sure it's not wrapped...