And then. . .

The orange arms of the sunset embraced them from behind. They sat on the porch of a house on Prospect St., edge of the neighborhood, right before a brightly lit downtown. Their beers sat sweating on the round faux glass patio table where they both had their feet up. She wiggled her toes covering the Bank of America building with her big toe.   “Do you remember that bit from SNL?” “Which one?” he asked. “Remember, they did that thing with their fingers and they’d crush someone’s head. They’d say “I crush you!” She turned to him mashing her index and thumb finger together her voice deepening in an odd Slavic like accent giggling.                 “No, dork!” He laughed and shook his head.   He reached for his dewy Heineken. She watched his profile, the Adam at the center of his neck rolling up and down as he swallowed. It was almost the end of summer and much of their time had been spent...

where do i begin and where does it all end the places faces that encompass my world they wait they see for the next thing that waits to defy me, surprise me,  ultimately crush me the love the heart that thing that follows we wait and we watch as we check mate ourselves into this auto feeling oblivion a place where we all dance, we talk, we walk  into an unknown something new

                                                                                                                              we create the space around us        that keeps                                               strangers                                                                                    ...

the soft palm of his hand against my face, long thin fingers reaching into the edge of my hair, as i look down. the shadow of my eyelashes hiding the expression that i don't want him to see. the expression that says that this wasn't me anymore. that perhaps the fire from earlier had simmered only to a few burning embers. a look that said i was ready to go...

"Hello"               "Boo!"                                                   "Two's company. Three's a crowd."                                                                     "Isn't it Prozac?" "What are you doing?"                                                 "Definitely awesome!"                          "Fucking stress!!!! I hate UTEP HR!!   "It's like a box you know? I can't be put in a box."                   ...

Today as I drove I found myself being privy to images. As I sat in my car on the access road, sun streaming in through the windshield, making me squint even with sunglasses on I stared as a small man walked from car to car begging for change. Usually I am not struck by this, and I always turn my face when they walk past my car. But today, I watched as this old emaciated man shuffled from a sapphire blue truck to a white beat up Buick, with one handing holding his faded black jeans up. His bony body swam in the pants and they came up far above his waist. What amazed me was that he still had his washed out polo tucked into the pants. The last shred of dignity perhaps that he could control? He looked like an old little boy with hollowed out eyes that life had taken. When he walked to my window I couldn't turn away this time. Instead I held out the only money I had, a handful of quarters, dimes, pennies. His hand smaller and more withered than mine struggled to hold what had fit just...

The kisses were sticky and tasted like cherry Chap Stick and mint. His lips were wet and the kissing noises sounded loud in her ears, but she kept kissing back, his moist tongue darting in and out of her mouth.  In the living room she could hear her friends watching MTV, the volume loud and muffling the giggles she knew were being giggled. She would have to face them after.  She felt the hard pressure of his center being pressed against hers and his hand grabbing her right breast through her Radiohead t-shirt. In Utero was playing in the background, but it sounded distant as if it were also in another room. She kept thinking about anything other than the boy between her legs and his heavy breathing as he pushed against her. She didn’t quite get it, him pushing against her crotch didn’t feel good, but each time he breathed a little heavier and made little noises that sounded foreign to her, so she breathed a little harder too. Earlier that day she had spoken to him on the pho...