Somewhere along the way I find contentment beside the couple at the café, happily dazed in marital stupor, contemplating their thousandth crossword, the epic 9-letter author, minimalist piano composition…

I am dying—not denying that dying is something I’ve been failing to do   for too many years, falling in tears and sweat.  I am like a spider needing the net to catch something   that would be something for me and for others to take.

Once upon a time, many moons ago, I met her. I met Her. We were attending an erotic poetry reading event. She was a black cat type of woman, her style quiet chic—only truly curious eyes would notice the custom-made dress, the shoes, that enormous red scarf dragging on the floor like a queen's mantle. One peculiar detail that caught my attention was the red lollipop she was licking throughout the entire time.