Inspired by true events, I wrote this in December of last year, for a freshman writing seminar based on autobiography taught by Professor Crawford.  He is one of the most enchanting and deeply fascinating people I've ever had the privilege of knowing.  He awakened, in all of us I think, the ability to look into our hearts from the outside, like ( Read more... )

Imagine us, barely adults, shaking outside in a forty-degree midnight, like a brother and sister born with identical, fractured hearts.

Being with you was like crying to myself,
kissing my own temple,
holding my own hands.

I'm at Uncle Ray's, in a corner of the den, typing away quietly amidst the hubub of Thanksgiving dinner preparations. And at this moment, I am deeply satisfied! Ma is in the kitchen, running her mouth, calling out Black Friday stratagems to her sister. The men are in the family room, glued to the boxing match. A horde of tiny cousins stampede ( Read more... )

IT WAS LATE September, and a thin film of sawdust crept up between my toes as I made my way across the attic floor. The stale air felt cool for the first time in months, its dank smell redolent of mothballs and neglect. High in the rafters leaked the oily light of a solitary bulb, creating the atmosphere usually reserved for seedy pool halls.
 I ( Read more... )

I didn't care when he dragged me by my skirt to the top of the slide, when he pushed me down so hard I crashed onto dry wood chips. And when the school nurse soaked my bloody palms in antiseptic and tweezed out four splinters and she asked me who did it I didn't tell her because my insides were silently screaming for more of his enigmatic ( Read more... )

I've noticed there's this thing you do when you laugh sometimes. When you throw your head back and pinch your eyes closed, and both palms are flat on your hips. Right now it's my favorite thing in the world.

God, I wish you'd been asleep on the bus ride back. So I'd have never sat next to you, and we'd never have had that conversation. Your ( Read more... )

Today, out on the autumn road, where the asphalt dipped low into the valley and a stiff sky met vermilion canopies, I thought about all the purest frustrations children fumble with. All those schoolyard hang-ups that left us feeling miserable and divine all at once... that first crush... the one that brought the first, clean, unadulterated pains ( Read more... )

Shoulders bumping, you lead us at your pace and nix my cigarette. There is autumn in my lungs and a rosy October spring to my step. A fleecy swatch of smoke from your mouth tumbles over the air currents and slips shyly into mine.

I have gone through the motions of today without once straying from the clearly defined and easy-to-read itinerary I write for myself at the start of each morning. For the places I'll need to go and the things I'll have to do, there is a time and a good reason ( Read more... )

To be angry at your friends
And the mistakes you've made.


( Read more... )