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michaelboyA grazing touch -- as you might engage the texture of a locust fence post -- being careful not to be cut by a rusty barb but with an overwhelming longing to sense folds in the weathered wood. How would I have known that a limber branch would be less desirable than you or the language we both speak?
I remember believing my mom was old at thirty-seven and how cabaret models in my dad's art class were something expressly for people who enjoyed a Tom Collins placed on a printed cartoon cocktail-napkin.
There is more beauty here, than lusty innocence would belie.
I remember believing my mom was old at thirty-seven and how cabaret models in my dad's art class were something expressly for people who enjoyed a Tom Collins placed on a printed cartoon cocktail-napkin.
There is more beauty here, than lusty innocence would belie.
