I remember. But I’m not ready to write it down.
“58 Days” (9 April 1991)
58 Days …so I went to church and got a manicure. I’m not sure which saved my soul but my hands are beautiful now. Amen.
“Silent” (12 July 1998)
The first time I remember being aware of a tingle between my legs, I was seven. My chiropractor, who had cracked my back for three years, ran the vibrating wand up and down my spine,…
“Dolores’ Pencils” (June 1994)
When I first met Dolores, I had no idea why she collected something stupid like pencils, but she was my friend, and I guess that’s enough. Every Friday, she’d wait in front of the school…
untitled (12 July 1998)
She began looking around the place with less selective eyes. “I know he’s here somewhere,” she convinced herself, since she couldn’t, wouldn’t go home to an empty bed. Not tonight. She put another $5 bill…
“Belonging” (March 1996)
Cleo’s fingers tightened around the handle of her mother’s old cast-iron skillet as she tried to remember Edd’s words before he left for work that day. “Mrs. Simonds?” the investigator continued, still using the tone…
untitled journal entry (28 November 1994)
It just all seems like such a dream to me: that I ever lived in Los Angeles, that I studied at UCLA, that I worked with the Kovacs, that I ate lunch on Melrose, that…
untitled (7 June 1998)
There is nothing like this feeling. Nothing. It’s the beginning of the beginning and it is blissful. The smell left on my skin, the way my lips still tingle, and the rush I feel just…
untitled (19 January 1995)
This is where I am. you are welcome to join me yet I will not compel you I will not entreat you I will not beg you. I will simply invite you and that I…
untitled (16 January 1990)
As she wrings her hands she gives me details that I don’t need, “The one your father used to wear” I know. But I don’t say a word because I love to hear the sound…