In suburban Jeddah magnificent houses on every corner of the avenues are surrounded by high walls rising up from just inside the roadside curb to much beyond taller than a man.

“You’re just like me,” she said, as dawn was breaking. “You like sex.”

I killed it. Didn't even relocate it back to its outdoor home, as I had work to do. This is being human.

For those in know know know there was hint of a wilderness Cadillac...

We’d sometimes find my mother asleep in her chair outside her trailer at the nudist camp when we drove up. She loved her garden there, even with the rabbits eating her young tomato plants. She used to coax the bluebirds down to the railing of her trailer

Here it comes at long last. We just can't do it like that again. We don't have the same time. But something's wanting something more to be more than this. Here it comes again. But you bailed on me the last time around. Went silent as a…

Both my Nana and my mother have blond hair…as a child I thought most women of European descent tended towards this color, this particular hue of straw, and threads of gold woven together. I had been somewhere as a nine year old, I…

He repeated Honey, I miss you. He could be cruel. He let their son chase his kite for hours in the park while he sat between two tourists on their way out of the city just last week. He could hear her now, running a bath for herself, forgetting John's Apple Jacks before…

They were overweight, diabetic, and trapped in a cellphone dead zone.

I'm feeling almost better than you know A little bit better than the day before Waking up to a deafening scream Please, please don't hurt me no more Why do I feel like a lost dog? Staring outside the window pane How come I become dark? When the clouds begin to rain…

Father, trouble me memory;laconic, idle, some glint on the dark. Recall us to me: what did we have, or what did we lose? Like some late affection, open me again, laugh it out of us. It is not loss I'm looking toput back together, papered over…

My friend and I were talking while having burritos (some days, it is as if all we ever eat are burritos, existentially speaking) and I was looking at the way he inserted that shaft of meat in his mouth and thought him prodigious for his technique

feeding the lions, tigers

the moment he started walking my hands were given new tasks to do:

You don't see the bruises ... you can't foresee the pain. It's intense, so deep and yet so volatile, in vain. He slapped my head once more while he uttered for the millionth time the same old words again: "You're a loser and you'll never win. I hate for you to be my…