In bed, a few weeks before Christmas, my boyfriend is scrolling through his phone after sex, looking for something to put in his cart. “Have you ever used a...
Sit on the porch, Normandy moors
Stretch, dream
of dried flowers with no fragrance,
did they ever bloom
in silent fields and wooded shades.
Plateau yield overgrown grass,
Stand there;...
“She had everything she needed: a little bit of laundry-change that she scraped off the dining table the other night, some water, her half-eaten lunch, a comic book and a tiny slip with her address scribbled on it.”
““But now, we are walking backwards until we collide. We are talking of women and their men, of the wall, of the weather. Of us. “Does it trouble you too?” I ask.”