xDessiex

not lemons kisses are not iron, paper not a therapist. a breast is not clay. lightning is not a map, wax is not hot water, and grease no substitute for love. ice is not my touch. television not the microscope; bed not an old red toolbox. a cell phone is not an earring. my mind not a tootsie roll, and time is not a chameleon – time may be a chameleon, time is not my chameleon, and work is not work, and I am not quite finished.

Before Her Death, Angry Argument on Phone I would walk along the beach a couple times a week, enjoying sunset near the golf course where my body would later be found. I would lose myself in the gentle effort of thinking about Puff mincing his steps across the windowsills at home and how I needed to get back to tend the roses I planted in front of the place on Edgemar Avenue where I used to live. Sometimes I would walk, not thinking at all about my collection of wedding dolls or the mystery novel I’d recently begun, forgetting the things everyone does about the lovers they stopped seeing years ago – not thinking, e