I used to be afraid.

My friend from MPLS says: Don’t talk to me.
What else does she say?

I have pink toenails. (Implicit, unsaid, a simple fact.)

Talk to me, Ms. MPLS?

Bright Eyes was on the radio and he made the porcelain sing effervescent songs.


They (my two MPLS friends) are going to the North Woods and one wants a journal and doesn’t want her husband’s half-finished journal.

She says: “I don’t want your second hand shit.”

Her husband – “you can write about your pregnant hand second hand shit.” (That’s not true. I made that up.)

She says to me: “You’re making stuff up.” And I would like to tell her: “that’s what I do”
But the grainbelt is to be attended to.


I don’t know if I am ready to make a baby, but when my friends have one I will celebrate.