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She wants to show the world her version of an Asian Nerd Girl.
Where am I going on the next magic carpet ride?
Airport fiction? What is airport fiction?
My fantasies will take me anywhere I want to go.
Someone in the audience yelled out, “Hey bitch, shave your legs!”
You try to smile forcefully in front of the mirror. Is a forced smile so ugly?
I left my aunt the watercolor paintings.
The rider’s V-rod skidded to a stop in the Roadway Diner’s gravel parking lot.
I imagined the jungle, the Frenchness. I think Henri Rousseau.
You’re a star in the making. Feel good?
Where do they go when it is all over?
You need darkness to see yourself.
Relationships aren’t meant to always be Eskimo kisses and shared bowls of popcorn.
It’s all change, it’s all crumbling.
I think I know which green I want, which green is better.
Damn weather like this killed my Christy.
My father said to my brother and me: “Doesn’t she remind you of Evil Bavmorda?”
I cannot say home in French because there isn’t really a word.
Why didn’t you tell me you were in a horror movie?
You are gonna die young and nobody will notice.
What is going on? What is this place?
How much paint will it take before she gets over it?
When we find a vaccine for each other’s fears and denial.
you might tell me something/about the dandelion & how it is not a flower
This time, dammit, she was going to vote no matter what.
Everything, she thought, is an accident of where you are.
He wants that happy ending for the country that we once wanted for GN’R.
I dare not show my face because if the others knew, I would never get out.
When the music starts, her face brightens.
We are on a slow-mo plane crash.
I think you should come out as an artist.
The music is Blues, reminding her where she is lost.
Henry Vestine at the Butte was something to see.
Don’t you remember that time I told you I dreamed I was a girl with really long straight black hair?
There is no such thing as lunar panels.
The thumping started again, louder than ever.
I stare at my phone, finger lingering over the call button under her name: Momma.
Which children should I tell you about?
Are you over him yet? Or are you going to take this one to the grave?
I am lost in the world of birds around me.
I texted my mom “here” and took a seat on a bench facing out to the water.
The recycling crew hit the floor, and my grandma still lay in the ICU.
We’ll use the whole damn lane because it’s a public place that we own.
Jake was a good man, she thought. She was lucky to share her life with him. She was blessed.
On the fifth day I fall asleep reading poetry.
I’d seen you before. Not you, but every other West Point-to-Kuwait-to-Some-Other-Place guy.
Sand is a prisoner of a shore.
You will experience an electric shift.
How many shoulder touches with flipped hair.
Seeking someone who understands that opposites are often the same thing with different results.
My father’s heavy hand pushed on the back of my neck, to hush me, get me down.
Hello? Yeah, I need to talk to someone about help with my rent. I just got an eviction notice.
I’m going to start a business of making words for you.
Someone had asked her if she was a dancer. “No,” she had said and smugly added, “I’m a painter.”
Nobody made music in the summer and the poetry was unoriginal.
Waiting for my life to start again.
Here’s why I didn’t participate in the #MeToo movement.
To all the women lying in their beds saying my turn.
She is a stranger, and she is welcomed home.
I fear I’ll lose my intensity, my stubbornness in the face of injustice.
I saw a life pan out in my bowl of scraps.
Mr Kulkarni came striding into the office in the green T-shirt.
I hummed, skipped through the neighborhoods of Paris, made my way to the Louvre.
He has to hurry to catch a plane.
OK, imagine if all the roads and the streets in LA were completely empty.
I had my first Sex Ed lesson in the back seat of a car.
There comes a point when service has ended (roughly between 3 and 5pm).