One french fry remains
on the plate. I paid for the
french fries. I eat it.
One french fry remains
on the plate. I paid for the
french fries. I eat it.
Watching ice skaters
fall down, covering my laughter
with a gloved hand.
Commotion in the
hallway. Co-workers gather
to view the sunset.
Early morning staff
meeting: We slowly peel oranges,
trying not to disrupt.
As I step out of
the shower, a streak of sunlight
enters the bathroom.
My friend’s house: The whole
living room rearranged to
make room for the tree.
Woman runs out of
the salon with foils in her
hair, pays her meter.
Squinting to read the
directions I scribbled on
a post-it note, turning.
Sound of trash bin wheels,
rolling to the end of the
driveway. Early morning.
Steam from cooking rice
fogs up the kitchen window,
increases privacy.
At the pagan book
store: the tarot reader and
the shopkeeper smoke.
Parking lot of the
park. Coming in and out of
cars: dogs and strollers.
First time using a
new blender. Approaching the mix
button, my finger shakes.
Out of the corner
of my eye, staring at other
ladies’ tattoos, judging.
Chatting around a
pool table: We duck and move
out of the cue’s way.
Work hasn’t begun
and already the sun seems
to be setting. Ouch.