“Really?” would be the inevitable response. “Her? You like Britney Spears?”Read More
Swirling her scented letter in the inflatable pool, her nightgown is its own wildernessRead More
The cave is holy! The pole is holy! The phone is holy! The manor is holy!Read More
Saturday afternoons when we were twelve, I watched wrestling at Ricky Morales’s house. The Iron Sheik was my favorite. Less a colorful character, he came across as an athlete, body all sinew and malice.Read More
I mail a letter to Madonna
asking her to adopt me.