I remember you. I took you in when you didn’t want me to. Shelter from the riders on the storm.
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bleeding heart
Halloween sneaked up again. I’m still not used to the 80s in October, a blood warmth that belies to me only July, a summer that lasts forever.
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Good Night, Sweet Boy
I consider the calculus, how many steps to the stage, the likelihood of distraction with all the crowd smells and ground noms, what if someone careens into the aisle right on top of him?
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Rainy Drought
The City of Austin doesn’t have tornado sirens. Instead our phones blow up at godawful o’clock with perpetual flash flood warnings and looming coffins.
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Day of the Dead Skull Head
0110SP00KY111
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New Orleans!
My last and only time in the Crescent City, I was 20, a roadtrip pilgrimage to goth Mecca with Anna and Bennett to poke through cemeteries, corset shops and dance floors, adamant we had no interest in stalking Anne Rice.
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I said yes
In June 2011 I said yes when Bree cajoled me into coming to the Twin Cities Improv Fest afterparty, like we were the cool kids, not superfan creepers.
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birthday chiminea!
I had a birthday!
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Leaf Peepin
October saw us on aeroplanes herk-jerkin to Boston that chewed us up in traffic and spit us out on 93. It was dark and stormy when we reached our destination—a New Hampshire cabin owned by Arthur’s aunt and uncle.
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Horse of a Different Color
I pranced, galloped, sweat in troughs, high-hooved children and nuzzled howling teens, delighting looky-loos and certified queens and posed for dozens of selfies.
