I drove my mother’s car; A manual transmission, 1989 deep-purple Volvo station-wagon. I’ve been driving for ten miles. The kind of miles that take forever because you’re on a two-lane county road with frequent and unnecessary stop-lights for the majority of them. Trisha sat passenger. She knew this wouldn’t be a short drive. Through trail […]Read more "The Drive"
It all started when I forgot Math. The test before me seemed like a jungle of numbers I could not comprehend. And my hands… My hands were no longer my hands. The scales that formed upon them couldn’t weigh a single grain of sand. Answers seemed like a quest in a foreign place I learned […]Read more "Shape Shifter"
I carry my Rubik’s cube everywhere I go. I like the way it feels between my fingers. Smooth. I like the ‘stop and click’ it makes when I twist it. One, two, four, five…twist ‘click’ twist…One, two, four, five…twist ‘click’ twist. [Repeat, repeat]. Sometimes I feel naked, absent, without it. Though I’ve never bothered to actually solve it. […]Read more "Rubik’s Cube"
I write romantic things for privileged women who call themselves girls much passed their girlhood. They read with me. They stare at the make-up on their faces. We are made up and lined. Every day, new lines. Crooked lines. Curved lines. Lines lines lines. I pray to whatever god I believe in that day for […]Read more "Romance Novelist"
Time rants and Time rages. Time commits and acquits in stages; all in a dog’s day of Summer. Time’s ideas are static, though his body frantic. His mouth, always in motion. Time gives and Time takes. Time makes love and flakes love; all in a dog’s day. Time wanders in wonder and then falls apart; […]Read more "Time Rants"
It was some time. Not the best. Not the worst. Just Time. And though there were times I knew I brought out the worst in Time, Time was, as Time is; incredulous, omnipresent and overwhelmingly ostentatious. I despised Time. Yet I had no knowledge or reason or clarity of what Time felt of me. I […]Read more "Tick Tock"