Figuring it out was painful.
Black as fresh-made coffee.
“I can’t compare her to pancakes. That sounds vaguely sexual. I know… I’ll change ‘pancakes’ to ‘crepes.’ That makes it deep.”
I’m pretty sure the poem I’m remembering is by William Carlos Williams.
I licked the sweat off her Italian skin.
Like the track marks on our embroiled, addict hearts…
It didn’t work out in the end.
My Hebrew name is Chavah-Chanah, which translates to Eva-Grace. I was named for my paternal great-grandmothers because my English name does not translate to Hebrew.
One time, I went on a couple of dates with a heroin addict who had a domestic violence charge.
Ora Nechema is on the coffee table.
Thinking about a girl I met in California…