You were the best at reminding methat life is trash bags suspended over old tires,waiting for things to go (Roman exuberance).
I should be satisfied,but the six inches between us mightas well be six miles or six hundred.This is your back porch:you’ve taken the hammock, leaving methe futon, which is covered in…
When my Madre left the microscopic town of Jojutla
The Pemex station was on the verge of exploding
and her Mama posed like a fashion doll in a mirror by the window