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I Do

Ok, let’s talk about it.

When it happens, when we meet and we fall in love and you decide this woman is a woman I cannot live without. Then When that happens, I want you to know I don’t need all the fancy shit. Just me and you and our everyday duds and the set of eyes needed to make it official.

When I was a kid I asked my mom about her wedding dress and she told me they’d turned them into curtains. For the longest time, I thought the heavy starched lavender curtains in their bedroom had once been her wedding dress overflowing with fabric. She got married in a t-shirt and red shorts.

I tell everyone I know that I’m going to get married in a Continue Reading →

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Sunday Morning

Everyday is Saturday night, but I can’t wait for Sunday morning, Sunday morning

Being single is a series of Saturday nights: Arms slung around friends, the music in our ears travel straight down to our soles, drinks sloshed from glasses to shoes, your shoes, their shoes, who knows whose shoes, shoes clawed off and flung into the corner the second you stumble over the threshold. Sleep comes like a Polaroid picture developing in reverse.

Being with the one you love is like a series of Sunday mornings: Knees knocking, breath kicking. Sheet coverage won and lost in the night, forsaken in the name of peace at dawn’s first light. Ears up close are as intricate and intimate as the curve of sea shells. Hair all a mess, his mess, evidence of satisfaction. Happy as larks, nothing but breakfast will lure us from this love nest.

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Champagne Supernova

We’re cutting across the neighborhood taking turns swigging champagne from a brown paper bag, the ultimate expression in trash and class. Just a pair of friends walking and talking. At first porch lights and the occasional set of headlights illuminate our way until we emerge from the neighborhood onto a busier road and the street lights rain burnt orange down onto us. We walk up to our friends sitting out on their stoop and there’s much rejoicing and Continue Reading →

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What are You Thinking About?

“What are you thinking about?” You ask me. Your daddy long leg legs are stretched out across my bed at a slight angle, so the entire length of you will fit. It’s like you’re the beanstalk and I’m Jack and my heart, not my heart, but wherever my lust resides, that location, longs for the adventure of scaling you.

I tug at your sock covered toes and say, “Laundry.”

But, I should say I’m thinking about the day I met you. How you and your brother and your brother’s girlfriend started out ahead of me and my friend as we hiked up the hill leading to the Getty, but somehow at some point ya’ll wound up behind us and I’m so self-conscious I keep tugging my bubblegum pink skirt down cause while I want you to notice my ass, I don’t want your brother’s girlfriend to catch a back view of my cooch.  We reach the summit and ya’ll head over to the art and me and my girl hit up the food court. I figure if it’s something it’ll happen. Continue Reading →

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