i once knew a waitress who dated a dentist and wasn’t happy, so she left him.
i once met a chemist who loved her Oedopis-boy so much she talked him into poems. so i asked her one time what it was. her feigned response, a test of wokeness from twenty-fifteen: “he is beauty and i like beautiful things”
i once befriended an alcoholic mother-of-three at the italian restaurant where i worked while in high school. we’d sit in her backyard and smoke virginia slims, i was 18 and feeling some-type-of-mean
there’s no room for judgement now but sometimes i wonder what those people thought of me.















