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Women & Menexpand_moreShe confessed to Judd that she saw other men. She liked a good time.
The pumpkins are looking up my skirt, making orange a kind of festive.
We drove, talking fast, fast, fast. He was always going for my zipper.
She stopped, turned toward him, placed her hand on his chest.
Lynn Freed reads from her collection, The Curse of the Appropriate Man.
I arrived that evening barefoot and swathed in a sort of striped toga.
Nothing happened to him? Why, genius had happened to him!
Their leader is a badly wounded boy in need of wounding others.
The baby in her belly is not a sibling, will never be their playmate.
Idzia is a little monster. For a monster, though, she’s awfully cute.
Maybe that’s what she feels, not stranded, but suspended in time.
I had pasted a pink Post-it to my phone screen that said DON’T DRINK.
Oh shit! I had that a while ago. Didn’t think I still did. So, so sorry.
When I was a child I once hallucinated that the laugh track was for me.
Time is changing. November 1. Clocks back one hour. New season.
Today was the first day of her new life, and she was on an adventure.
I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve died on camera before. It’s not so bad.
A man and a woman joined by newspaper pages culture to politics.
You move rocks, run water, check the path of mouse and rabbit.
To keep the baby safe, we sealed the house as if against bad weather.
We’re phosphorus, we’re this glowing rock under UV light in the mineral shed.
People assume married cartoonists are laughing all the time.
Sex can be revelatory. Essential nature emerges in sex.
I looked up how much everything would cost. Giving birth: $9,000.
I find lost prayers in the tiny edging around buttonholes.
You’re feminist? Neither one of you. You just like getting into fights.
They’d developed Santa’s entire system, had written the code.
The blackness of her hair seemed to pull the color from her body.
I became a symbol of freedom, a miracle who had escaped the Devil.
Fletcher was a squad leader. He ought to be able to get a girl.
