You should never compete about the size of your grief. Had you been here, you would have told us that.
He takes me to the place with the blunt knives and the slow kids, chopped up on plates for the masses, carefully arranged and fresh.
His body is large and cumbersome, yet gracefully does he sit on my chest, his plummaged arse in my face, and feasts to his contentment on my squidgy offal.
God sat on her red, quilted cushion to think. She summoned up a glass of iced tea, the homemade kind, the kind you pretend you like when out with other adults. She sipped and pondered, pondered and sipped, and tried to solve her problem. Hare passed by. She addressed Hare. “Lo there, Hare, let me […]