I’m scrunched in partially obscured view seating, hands at my temples, elbows pressed to the balcony rail. Look up, Sherman Alexie! I squint through borrowed glasses, willing your signature pen to drop, your writer’s eyes to find me. I’m cheap.
felt faint inside from the heat of the day I fell down on my knees to pray thought of those memories from a time ago Christmas was spent under the mistletoe hugs & kisses with everything new Pretty pictures pretty
I haven’t been able to sleep. What you said, perhaps just offhandedly, perhaps not really caring at all, has me wide awake lost in those silly impossible dreams and longings that overtake my being so often. You cannot know how
I don’t remember What it was in that moment, That it all began. As if all that started Was on a sabbatical! And now that I know ‘now’, denouement is denied. Lurching and limping, from love to half-love. Scrounging for