a mastermind of comestible adventure

A Mastermind of Comestible Adventure

I undress people all the time and it’s no big deal, takes

a remorseful satisfaction in the snowy walk and bitter

white-hairs who shared the same face as several of her friends

in the final spin. I’d have to hang mine up to dry on

our contributions and keep us from being sentimental

short skirts even though we spent our days working with sand and

we lied and cheated and stole. There were daily

storm-beaten boats safe at anchor in a quiet harbor

capturing how he curled his fingers when he neared us and how

the judge and jury would read. They would preconvict

the neighborhood to be invited to take a table, and

her anger flew out of her chest and into her mouth.