Favorite Time Saving Meals

Okay, maybe I wrote some pervy poems, but UP is the one who published them so don’t blame ME.

Stop looking at me that way.

Tonight I could’ve got murdered in a blackdark stretch of walking.  I saw the black. I walked into the black and I said, very quietly, I could get murdered here.  Then I just walked and held my keys like come get me.

Rusted lockers.

My dinner was a fried egg eaten while standing up in the kitchen.  I ate that egg all hot and ouchy in my mouth because super hungry people cannot be bothered to wait for things to cool off.  Why I didn’t eat it straight out of the skillet gives me hope for my humanity. 

Yolk totally dripped onto my shirt.   My thought was, “chicken come.”  Which makes no sense, I know.

I hear the dryer going in the other room. Intermittent clanging on top of the hum.  I washed a bunch of dishes. I am wearing socks. Later, I will take out my contacts and wash my face.  I have a “face regimen” now.  Some sort of burning lotion I apply to my skin where I don’t want to be old anymore.  The lotion doesn’t actually burn because I was lied to.  I wanted it to burn. Expected it.  Figured that would mean it was really working.  Now I just have to put it on, feel nothing, and hope it’s taking the old away

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Sal Pane recommends me to his students.  This makes me feel like I am maybe important, or at least my writing is.  In all my life, I never thought I would ever feel that way.  I want to cry.