I last touched your skin six weeks ago. Except… I didn’t really. That skin I touched you with has been shed. This body has never really touched you. That moment is gone and it could only ever have been kept alive by renewal, by touching you again. And I can’t. You’ve slipped through my fingers forever.… Continue Reading
I am writing this to be able to edit my own story as I edit the shallow articles magazines demand from me. My words are a mirror made of scrawny spider legs called letters on an immaterial paper I plan to bury in a blue memory stick labeled “IRS-docs-1994.” Who would open such a dreadful promise after I am gone?… Continue Reading
I prayed to the Hair Gods, and they, in their mysterious follicle wonder, sent me an angel dressed in DOC tans with a lazy eye who offered shampoo and conditioner.… Continue Reading
In time, it may occur to Juhani that his ex never said she wouldn’t sleep around. Eveliina says other things: Tapio’s in good shape, Kaarina has a sexy septum piercing, Lilja’s in a polycule. But during this evening sauna, Eveliina isn’t saying very much.… Continue Reading
He takes a drink of his beer and a handful of cashews from the little silver bowl in front of him. Normally, I’d make a joke about him having nuts in his hands, but that doesn’t seem appropriate.… Continue Reading
My daughter ambles away from the little boy carrying two toy guns and a toy crossbow in a tiny toy holster, calling “Hey, hey” to her at the playground beside the bay. I usually encourage her to introduce herself, explain what she’s doing and invite other kids to join in, but today I don’t.… Continue Reading
The man sent thinly veiled declarations of love, and detailed accounts of his struggles with unmedicated depression, with his hopes for improvement pinned squarely on my mother returning his affections. But when I asked what had become of him, she simply shrugged. The letters stopped coming.… Continue Reading
There is a little girl lurking just out the corner of your eye. She hardly ever speaks, and you hardly speak either. She has never done anything to you. She just stands in the distance, looking at you. Looking, looking, looking. When your eyes meet in the smudged mirror, she stares back, faintly sad.… Continue Reading
I think of Renaissance art, of how difficult it is to tell the saved from the damned, the human from the holy. Imagine the miracle of this woman’s corded neck as she bends toward Sally’s ear. Her pinned name tag falls to the floor. I’m searching for the glint of an odd halo. … Continue Reading
At this moment I am choosing to see because I know that even if I choose not to, even if I close my eyes or look away, everything will still be there, and if I miss ugliness then I’ll miss beauty, too.… Continue Reading