Susan reached forward, slim fingers stretching as if to stroke my face. I froze while she slid the forgotten pencil from behind my ear, the curve of her wrist carved by Canova's chisel and smelling of frankincense and rose.

Anything that comes out of your mouth / is an insult

Once or twice, it was only once or twice. Three times, if I really count. And I wasn't giving or loving. And my self stayed hidden and I kept most of my clothes on.

You did it, like, "Oh, there's a train wreck... I can't look away from the tall, leggy brunette with salon styled hair." And we both know it was certainly Armageddon whenever a woman, any woman, with large breasts which encountered a low cut top.

At thirteen he laid his seventeen-year-old neighbor, under the smell of agarbatti cones and to the keening of Physical Graffiti. She was kind, generous, and surely less beautiful than he remembered.

While he was in there he saw another man walk in, five years his senior. He was ushered back by a woman with bare legs and a white coat, as if she was role playing a professional masseuse. He'd caught sight of the man's ring finger and it hand a plain gol

Atlanta, 1990The night we almost died,crushed at a one-hit wonder concert,comes back to mewhen the club announces it's closing.An ancient excelsior millturned industrial dance hall,I spent three years mapping every dark corner, finding secret places for sex and…

"Absolutely. I get better at it all the time." he confidently replies. He reminds me that it was all her idea. They were online friends when she suggested it. "She loves it." he tells me again, but I think of her sad eyes as she walked upstairs to tend to