I get extra sugar from Carmen. She says it’s a magnolia.
I invented a new word: nonmonogaphobia.
Plus there’s now a better rate of return on given-away phone numbers.
We’re both breathing. He likes Fritos and he fills up a notebook like I do the white one.
The uptight air is salt air. People die but telephones don’t.
Last month was chicken in cucumber.
I slept in a trailer two nights in a row, a silver one.
“Like the prow of a ship,” she said. It was cold. I slept hard.
Water dripped. I had to close the door. The door got stuck. It was also dark.
There was a squirrel or a bird on top of the trailer sometime after the sun came up.
I was dancing. Paid time off.
I forgot how to do this. No I didn’t.
We met in a wine bar. In the future.
