Earlier this morning, I was at the Kroger grocery store on Dorothy Lane. I had a can of medium spicy Ro Tel tomatoes in one hand, mild in the other. I had a tough time deciding which one to get. I looked up and realized I was crossing paths with this older crone woman employee,Continue reading “Kroger Sisyphus”
Tag Archives: creative writing
If you want to know what it’s like to have a mental illness, you could ask yourself what it’d be like to trust and doubt your judgement at the same time. In a sense, you have to be smarter than yourself. Be responsible. But what if you’re still in your 20’s, late or not? ExperiencedContinue reading
Valentines Poem
Amiable, hearty Hibby: Saccharine as freshly sliced pineapple, Separated to succulent chunks, And chunks, And juicy chunks more- What should I make of his sunup aura: A nasally bouncy “good morning!” Followed with high-pitched “coffee, hib?” The faint smell of veggie submarine, deodorant wash musk, The pepper of booze, And his natural scent. Our romantic,Continue reading “Valentines Poem”
In One Ear, Out the Other
“What do you want to eat, hib?” I was sitting at the couch, interpreting a two card tarot spread while Raisin toyed with the deck’s box discarded by my feet. Ricky was flipping through some restaurant coupons we got in the mail, searching for that one special meal to pop out at his eye’s tenderContinue reading “In One Ear, Out the Other”
It found its way
One of my first magical customer experiences when I was working at Waffle House was back in 2013. I was 22 years old, freshly college educated and constantly stressed, therefore constantly ticking. I believe it was solely an EEEE vocal tic I called a bark, but it was much more frequent. And yes, I wasContinue reading “It found its way”
His gift
While serving at Waffle House, I distinctly remember this larger man with a big, brown bushy beard coming in maybe once or twice a year. He’d always sit at the low two seater in section 1 during more spontaneous bursts of business in the evening. This guy was extra jolly, somewhat immature and itching toContinue reading “His gift”
Sister friend
Today when I was next in line in the waiting room to see my psychiatrist Dr. Singh, this woman with a Harley Davidson jacket, a neck tattoo that said ‘little shooter’, and a face mask that said ‘fuck off’ stormed in the waiting room, burst out in tears. Everyone sitting around acted awkward from herContinue reading “Sister friend”
Raisin Aioli McGoo
Pure happiness to me is a tiny Raisin Aioli interrupting my phone scrolling with a plethora of heavenly, needy and rather pathetic sounding mews, throwing her weight around on my open bust until she lands tippy toes first with her hind side tallest in the air- smelling like a light whisp of salmon oil andContinue reading “Raisin Aioli McGoo”
A promising day in summer of 2020- cooler yet humid morning, buku bucks in my pocket from carona virus pua payments, and a plethora of garage sales to hit on my GPS, mainly in Forest Ridge. I hit my dab pen going 37 down Valley, slowing down approaching Floral Home to get to Aaron’s house.Continue reading
What he loves
He loves my faceThe shape of Cupid’s bow,The curve of hazel,Spotted scars sparse,Extol my artistry, he does. He loves my curves,My thick mass,The pulse beneath bustMy weight, my baseThe sway of shark bite dress. He loves my languageaberration of normal pillow talk,Nibbles on his skin, sure,Quick heavy breaths and sniffing,Silly, immature play. He loves myContinue reading “What he loves”
The Human Healer’s Stories 