This is your reality and not mine. Who decides what really happened? Our awareness is limited by experience. Yes, I ate the last french fry.
Twisters
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I came home late. I snuck into bed. She sniffed me and said, You smell like someone else. Are you a hound dog? I asked. At least I was drunk.
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My mother always told me I was beautiful inside, but I’m a doctor now and I’ve seen a lot of insides and her words are hollower than bamboo.
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The boat drifted through the night and come the dawn they understood the enormity of their problem. But what if I have to poo? she asked him.
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The sun kissed the horizon and we drove toward the burnt orange sky. She turned up the volume on the radio. And I said, This is how it ends.
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We found each other as the Revolution wound down and the New slowly replaced the Old. But when we kissed in the New manner it totally sucked.
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In my sadness, we discussed: How ugly my father became. What this said about me. The ambivalence of my courage. The manner in which I drove.
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Once, we were an annoyingly happy couple. Car commercial happy. But soon we were running on fumes. Especially after eating her famous beans.
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And then I felt a warmth in my pants, and then I smelled smoke, and then I was dancing the dance of the condemned, and then she walked away.
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We all heard it. The movie was boring and we craved entertainment. Our laughter took over. A pretty woman stood up. Yes it was me, she said.
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