• Fiction,  Humor

    Two Nasty Habits Everyone Has That Sabotage All Your Dates

    There are so many singles in the dating world. Not only are there numerous singles, but there are also singles who have been single for years. Years and years. Many years. So. Many. Years. These aren’t single people who choose to be single, or who shy away from social situations and dating. These are people who are actually trying to meet someone. They’ve been meeting people in person, going to bars, getting set up by friends, meeting people online and getting dates and still after years of trying, they are still single. You may even be one of these people. And for a long time, I was too. Until I…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    This is Friday night

    This is Friday night at the country club for dinner with my Ivy League husband where we will act surprised to see all the same people we saw last Friday night at the country club for dinner. The pale blue undertones in my $500 J McLaughlin dress will complement the deep blue in his Non-Iron Milano Fit Multiplaid Sport Shirt from Brooks Brothers.  We look like we planned this.  It’s casual Friday. We will reassure our friends that our lives, jobs and children are just as exceptional as they were last Friday, if not more. We will ask about the specials. It won’t matter that I have on my period panties…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    Lady Moth

    Why are butterflies more beautiful than moths? With their loud colors, their sturdy wings, their pretentious stories of transformation as if that one time they changed was some grand accomplishment. The butterfly had no control over that change. It was a pregnancy, giving birth to herself. There is no talent or skill in giving birth. Your body takes over with contractions and cramps and pain until you are turned inside out. It is out of your control, giving birth to yourself or another. You are along for the ride. It’s what you do after that takes wisdom. But butterflies rest on their smug laurels talking about metamorphosis and transformation and…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    Charcoal Skies

    The sky is charcoal grey with stars in every direction. In the distance, lightning flashes like an orange ball illuminating a low hanging clump of storm clouds. Cool air, smelling of salt and fish is tumbling around me pushing against my jacket, playing with my hair and lifting my skirt with unexpected gusts. I’m sitting on the beach with my knees drawn in. The sand is hard and soft underneath me. It feels cold and damp, but it’s dry where I am, far enough away from the shore that it’s rippled and pliable, but close enough that if I don’t move, the waves will reach up to me within the hour. It’s…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction,  Header Slider

    Sensual Anarchy

    Your love is so cold and clothed.  Your brutal indifference.  I’m bringing needy back.  It’s become such a curse, it’s a shame, to need someone. Why!? We want to be needed but we don’t want to need. Vulnerability is a dirty feeling, like insecurity and failure. No one will admit to disappointment. No one wants their imperfections shown. What a waste! Who will step forward and say, “I need something. I need you. I am confused and helpless at times and you heal me. It’s you! It’s you that I need!” Everyone and their no fucks given. There’s no appeal in that for me.  I have lots of fucks to give.…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    He’s a Gardener

    “I’m a gardener.” He said, matter of factly, “I garden.” He was on the edge of the couch leaning over the coffee table, his knees pressed up against the edge. He was writing notes about something in his spiral notebook. He always wrote in pencil. His elbow rested on his knee and he didn’t look up at her. He kept taking notes. He was preoccupied. “But I’m talking about when you talk to people” she shrieked, getting his attention. He looked up, leaned back and watched her. His beard was so thick and dark around his lips she couldn’t tell if he was smirking. His eyes gave away nothing. “I’m…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    You Can Not Trust Your Eyes

    She knows that she looks sweet. She looks tender. Pretty. There’s an innocence about mher that inspires you to let down your guard. You want to protect her. How kind. You should know, it’s too late for your protection. There is no part of her that has not suffered wounds. There is no real innocence left. She have seen darkness and fought it. She won. And she lost. It consumed her, she fought back harder and consumed it. She carries it with her now, in her belly, in her blood. She knows that she am fun. She is happy! What a relief for you to find a woman so open!…