After a couple of hours, I had acquired a large frigate with like 40 cannons on it; I thought, ain’t no sucka running up on me.
New York City used to be mine. It’s a lot of peoples. Like the guy who is always out there at 6am selling fruit on the corner of 31st and 3rdAvenue.
Employing the word “soulmate” in casual conversation, as if that wasn’t the linguistic equivalent of coughing up glitter on someone in the middle of a sentence.
Perched atop an exam table at Rutgers’ Imaging Center, twitching bare feet, I glance from the standard medical gown keeping me cold to drab linoleum floor to unforgiving fluorescent ceiling lights.
The beauty of things must be that they end.