[Photo description: A distant view of a woman in shorts and a t-shirt walking away down a sun-dappled, tree-lined alley..]
i am more stranger than any man can touch.
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[Image Description: Various equations are written in UV reactive green ink on a black background with UV purple lights affixed above.]
“Being rational, but discrete, he divided me. Advanced curriculum, my bell curves skewed, and he transformed the mean. No longer prime, I wished him imaginary.”
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It was a damn song, of all things, just a few lyrics, enough to place a hook just behind her small intestine and yank. The memory rose up in her, a sickeningly warm wave that crested inside of her chest until all she had to do was close her eyes and she was there.
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red mud bundle where peaceable people retire
and kids end up, end up again
some avenue. some narrow,
pitious side street. some
lightening bug carcasses
strung up, still beaming.
I get to my dorm room only to find Kiya and of course her no good boyfriend Derek there. No, I’m not jealous, but something about him doesn’t sit well with me. However, Kiya looks beautiful with her hair pulled up in curls, matte jewelry, and a silky white dress that looks lovely on her chocolate skin.
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On some days, my voice is larger than anything else. I can scream and scream and scream until the whole world doesn’t have a choice but to listen and when I try to do anything, I can do it.
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Bonheur sounds like a kiss in any language,
and I’ve been saying tristesse over and over
for a year to get it right. Sadness.