A word, please, Mr. Fischman! At the tail end of September, the summer occupants are elsewhere. Gone are the bunnies that hopped across my yard like they owned the place. Gone are the brown squirrels in the Shagbark tree, and... Read more →
"I loved you yesterday And I love you just the same And none of the things you do Could tear us apart I loved you yesterday And I love you just the same When I gave myself to you You... Read more →
Yes. Yes, I did mess with the colors. What I've done is preposterous. Egregious. And I'm laughing at how far I'm willing to go to show you what I see. What I saw. The colors we choose, the light and... Read more →
I have never been aware of needing you, although you were always there. I wouldn't take that personally; I'm exquisitely aware of trying like heck to not need anyone. It just never seemed like a good idea, needing anyone. What... Read more →
I was coming of age, and she was coming into her own. She fought battles for me well before I knew I'd need them. She was tenured at Columbia University in 1972; just about the time I informed my parents,... Read more →
"Without the dark, we would never see the light." - original author unknown, but Ben said it to me on a night so dark we were sure we were seeing all the stars in the universe. We left the kitchen... Read more →
That's how it started; a full bottle of Jameson's in the sand. Just that one bottle propped at an inconsiderate angle. Damn thing should be allowed the dignity of standing up straight until it tips over in the despair called... Read more →
It looked like a cat carrier. It looked like a cat carrier straight out of that trunk in Repo Man. He hit his brakes hard enough to earn himself a spectacular seat belt stripe. It stings for a day or... Read more →
Mayra Medina was born in Bucay, Ecuador in 1969. She grew up in Caracas, Venezuela and came to the US on a student visa in 1987. Mayra was 18 years old when she entered the country and she came alone.... Read more →
Sweet photo, right? My friend, Bob, gave me the prompt and my friend Bob is about as sweet as I am; sugar right up until you screw a pooch we care about. A pooch on which we have money, in... Read more →