this girl
she moves in bell-bottoms smiles walks down the sidewalk strokes the strands
of hair falling just above her breasts her crotch still burns from cheating on her
boyfriend her belly rolls over her jeans like thick syrup she doesn’t adjust her
shirt to cover it she offers one long exhalation flicks the ashes of her cigarette
away the street people watch her back arched against gravity they think that
the shape of her body is small compared to the world’s
Her eyes narrow behind sunglasses, she tilts those shades up as she picks one– sniffs deep for the right scent: sweet, ripe tests its firmess
Today I greeted an old friend and it made miss, long for the past—all those too hot summers and pool side reads, the softer winters
Sunday night I sat down for dinner with mom, Sam, and our significant others. Dinner at Minerva: Indian restaurant, Hyderbadi/Andhra style cuisine. Our mission: to