The sun rose, as usual, illuminating us, the world. I licked dew off her shoulder. I love you more than I should, I said. Then she threw up.
Twisters
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I hurt my leg as a child. Some kid tripped me. I didn’t grow up athletic. I met that kid, now grown, yesterday and I threw a punch. I missed.
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And then her new boyfriend picked up a guitar and she became more unpopular than before and then he started singing and we wanted to do evil.
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I came home and sat in my chair and asked my kid for a beer. One day we’re going to die, I sighed. He studied me. But not tomorrow, he said.
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I reached for more meatloaf and felt her disapproval. How fat can I get before you stop wanting me? I asked. Then I realized it was too late.
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The ham smelled bad but I made a sandwich anyway. I’m feeling philosophical, I thought, spreading the mustard. I took a bit. Then I felt ill.
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I bring her into my room. She says, Did your mom help you decorate? I turn from her. My mom’s dead, I cry, grabbing my blue and yellow duvet.
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When I was young I was told I was too young to have an opinion. As an adult, I enjoy visiting random “seniors residences” and talking smack.
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I answered my phone. Did you know there’s pornography on the computer? my mother asked. I closed my laptop. It seemed the decent thing to do.
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The shower brings out the falsetto in me, I sing, handing her the herbal soap. What about that? she asks, pointing at a sensitive part of me.
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