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I was enraged at being alone on the outside of all that love and lust.

I'll rid the world of bad things. But first, I need to get more coffee.

Felicia knew why he was there. He was waiting. Waiting for her.

Our house sits alone out in the country, seven miles north of town.

My bike, my skinny body, my pent breath was thrown to the grass.

She flicked a bit of citrus on her tongue. Her laugh was hard and high.

The animals are dying. All the beautiful women are dying too.

He tuned the future backward as he left the ringing water to reclaim me.

“I’m torturing you,” she said. “It isn’t fair.” Now I saw there were tears.

Our life is fine as it is, she would say to him, and it seemed true.

Mostly he was in a hurry, so he’d just stick it in and away we’d go.

She countered the reverence of his efforts stroke by stroke, tit for tat.

I recoil from the certitude that religion can give a person; it’s horrific.

He was gentle and slow, like a blind man washing dishes.

Women should hate it when people whistle at their backs as they walk past.

I hadn’t always liked being around my mother while she was alive.

Ah, yes, Rita reminded herself: I won. Her Mistress of Mayhem award.

Why does she do it? She knows cutting yourself is a joke. Goth, idiotic.

He was making some green by ripping his own heart out.

I am always hungry & wanting to have sex. This is a fact.

If they don’t give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair.

Too bad there is no oil between her legs that 4-year-old Muslim girl.

She says, It’s so difficult to find a good guy. My lips form a half smile.

This Lee was a woman, and she was a painter, and she was good.

Our father turned to me and said, Why does he sound like a girl.

My spirit twinkles like tea lights above a backyard patio in 1950s Queens.

He touched her bruise more softly than an elevator button.

“Why don’t you call yourself Butterfly?” he said. “A pretty thing like you.”

We ate and then made love, the windows open to deafening twilight.

When and why had I begun to think about Ingrid Stoltz? She was a bitch.