I breathe.
It is tense, concerned and contracted.
It’s early, the air asleep.
We got broken into. The garage.
Jackie thinks, bonus! everyone’s up.

Dude, I don’t want to take you out for pee.
I don’t want to pick up your poo.
I don’t want to feed you.

I want to breathe.
Give me a second.

What the fuck happened?

Holes in the skin, I feel violated.
Like a car crash.
Thank God it wasn’t the car.
Valuables, inventory, a guessing game of what was.

Jackie’s diarrhea is at the ready.
He paces in circles, tail anxious.
Come on people, he wants to say.

Stupid us.
It’s on us, all of it.
Hard not to point fingers.
But who fuckin’ cares?
Damage is done.
The lesson came too late.

Diarrhea out. Next step: food.
Jackie circles us expecting the normal routine.
As, well,
We stand like fixtures
Scratching our heads.
A fog in the brain.

slow motion

Slow motion.
Heavy foot, right left.
Trying to shrug it off.
Get over it, just do it.

Flashes of humiliation.
Debilitating truths.
Two sides, one coin.
No one is right.
Yet it feels so real.

Get out there, get out of your head.
Do it over and over.
Fail and fail better.
I am visited by doubt.
I am visited by weight.
I am visited by the Ghost of Comparison, who rears its lion head.

Continue reading “slow motion”

cali teen

bless you

Red tank.
Short denim jeans.
Orange hair growing out from a collision of blonde shades.
Black socks squeezed into matching flip flops.
Old rollie. Used and reused.
Sweet, classic Cali teenager.

Thirteen? 14? 16? No more than that.

She looks nervous, diverts her eyes.
“Can I share the table with you?” I ask.
Thumb in mouth ripping at skin, she nods with eyes drawn away.
Staring off in the distance…

Continue reading “cali teen”

hard + deep

Jackie Robinson My Heart

We had this romantic story in our minds that we’ll adopt a shelter dog, save him from death or some other trauma; that he’ll come into our home and “behave” and love us instantly.

We thought, “What one dog gets the worst rap? Pit bulls? Ok, let’s do that.”

We were naive.
We were young and wild and free.
And now here we are.

I really didn’t know what I was getting into.
Sure, my heart melts at the thought of any dog getting euthanized but my heart was put to the test this time. We got him.
This is my life now.
Things have changed.

Continue reading “hard + deep”

first time ever


Two girls, autumn day, tea to go.

“So, I got crazy people living in my building and there’s this one woman who’s always throwing me shade. I’ve done nothing to her and yet, she looks like she’s ready to pounce on me.

And I’ve been reading up on the Trump-disaster this week and there’s this one journalist who talks about not getting bullied. Let’s not get bullied America, we will stand against it.

Well, that came into play for me yesterday — I see this woman from my building and for the first time, for the first time ever, I walked up to her and said, “Hello.” She huffed and looked away. And then I stood my ground and faced her, I asked, “Have I done something to you?” The woman looked at me with a kind of indignation and says, “Yeah, you fucked my husband.” I don’t even know who her husband is.

That’s not the point, I know this lady is not fully there, she’s taking some kind of heavy medication. That’s not the point. The point is, I stood my ground! I walked towards discomfort and fear and the Unknown and I faced it. That journalist is right. Trump can’t bully us and we can also see where we’re getting bullied on the everyday level and practice there.

It’s been on my mind a lot.”




Who: Morris D
Age: Late 80s
City: New York, NY
Profession: Retired

In the waiting room we sit in silence. I have a feeling pressure, the emotional kind, lies heavy on his heart today. I wait for him to speak. Glass of cold water in right hand; eyes fixed on something down and beyond. The doctor didn’t help him as much as he usual does today. Silence. And then, “I’m in a bad way…” he reveals to me. I continue to look at him as I nod my head, somehow understanding the deeper shades of his meaning. “My heart is breaking,” Morris takes another sip so as to keep the rumble from erupting in his throat. “Yes.” I say. He looks at me with the sincerest and longing of eyes before continuing, “My girlfriend of 20 years doesn’t want me anymore.” He takes a sip.

Continue reading “Morris”

A Study on Rage

Who: Claudia, William & Iber
Age: Over 35
City: New York, NY
Profession: Image Librarians

Don’t we learn? Don’t we wake up at some point? Don’t we stop the situation in the moment, and like that special effects found in movies, clap our hands and say, “Stop!” and the whole scene is frozen in front of us until we take a breath, gather ourselves and suss out the situation before acting on a reaction. Right? Something like that.

Continue reading “A Study on Rage”