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Women & Menexpand_moreSing so dogs bark, oxen bolt. Sing so a girl walks out on her lover.
The tomatoes weren’t there. She looked again at the ground.
What’s a man supposed to do when his best friend is a falcon?
If mine, then, is a religious Offence, leave it to religious Punishments.
This would not be a wooing meal. I was cooking my man into submission.
They’d been together an hour, but they were an easy threesome.
She often feels something kinetic between herself and younger men.
“As your brother, I ask you, how did you get that scar on your face?”
There would be no one to live for; she would live for herself.
Taller than most women, Sojourner Truth seemed to rise a little higher.
“The secret to happiness is not wanting,” Lars told the Buddha.
Her bra is black, her breasts full and white. There is too much flesh.
We see how tired you are as you lean on your rifle or your shovel.
At a red light he touches his cheek. The stubbly skin is sensitive, febrile.
Forgive my father, the promise that he made, that I could turn all this to gold.
Her sentiments maudlin, malaise dripped like a fever from her pores.
I try to imagine him wanting only a Toblerone bar for his birthday.
The three of us share a myth, that I’m fragile as old bones. My parents speak in low voices—about me, I’m pretty sure. I watch the waitress, trying to remember how to flirt. I take off my mask.
He pushed aside a photograph of a man with a knife stuck in his eye.
He cut down on beer and moved into the hotel that had my name.
The golden-haired ones, they think they’re better than Virgin Mary.
“Hey, you look lost,” the hunter had said. “You better come with me.”
You never see Westerners, so you don’t think of them as human beings.
He didn’t mind, he insisted, that he loved her more than she loved him.
Somebody would be a lot happier if she were more like her mother.
Spanish men. They whispered and whistled. It made her jumpy.
My mother and I remained apart. My father came late to the party.
I was dusty, my ponytail all askew and the tips of my fingers ran red.
She asked, “What’s the weirdest thing you can do with your body?”
How do our lives disappear even while we’re in the midst of them?
