In the end it was the girl on the pink chrome bike
Not my steaming coffee
Not the ugly billboard touting chocolate donuts
Not the crossing pedestrians
Not the train barreling past
No, only that pretty girl, yielding, poised to ride
“Juanita dared me get inked,” Ana Luz crossed herself then straddled the pew and offered her forearm, palm up.
Mother Fucker, carefully inscribed in Sharpie from elbow to wrist, each letter elaborately disguised. O had legs like a spider.
“Dios mío, chiquita!”
My answer to this week’s Gargleblaster question: Is something crawling on me?
I’m a girl who runs. I’m a girl who runs on cool spring days straight to the lake and back. I’m a girl who runs in a fleece hoodie to angry boy-music.
Red wings flash from the right: No one ever dies.
Why do birds suddenly appear? 42 words for this year, Mom.
Hands full shelling spring peas and chopping artichokes for ragu.
Valentina said hi through the window. Bare-backed and pushing a wheelbarrow of flowers she stopped all the clocks.
Elbow-deep in pasta dough. “Supper’s at six.”
A bare wrist held high, her reply.
Did you know that according to the Urban Dictionary, clock stopper means someone very ugly? Obviously, I’m reclaiming it.
“Tell me something old friend: why are you fighting?”
A lotta truth’s inside the barrel of a gun. Truth is I used to crave it.
This last deployment’s like livin in a blow dryer. I’m gonna end up sleepin in a chiller anyway. May as well get a medal for it.
More or less a true story for the Gargleblaster. I swiped some of these phrases from a friend.