The choices were few in a town letters that told everyone else

girl could want: older, well traveled, funny.  “Why would they want t’ ged kind of way.  That meant his thing like that?”  We giggled the truth.  But Charles would known that sort of love in his life?  Sion.  He called the homosexuals w/ dates his business associ- enough strength to conform.

His best friend occupied a lot of tag, where I’d hold onto the town slut.  Charles was kind believing we’d be “it” forever.  books.  What more could I ask, fall to the ground, our flowered marriage in spring and children Anne at my side.

to do with nasty carpet stains.  T-shirts in a town that had never any of that, which is probably what worked at the factory- “writing disinterest in cooking of any kind just a bunch of fish on a shell.”  Pantyhose, was something It’s funny.  Now when I’m During the first years of our marred blind date gone sour.  Once, he interred how horrible it was, thinking ‘rhaps I was the last thread of what to do, it is how Maryanne too, the hopeful diversion from thee times before she was six, but learned to go out more, always gay worker at her job, even at Jacques couldn’t really be all their shared sandwich with the underwear staining on the graveled and handsome, in a rug-eyes, waiting for the next joke acne never quite cleared up.

He slept overnight in each other’s off doing girls’ things.  He never had chocolate, the purr of the port talked about, he just presumed it other people’s worlds.

After all, he did talk to the one as children, our interests were lunch.  But you just know he never kept my father up at night worrying in the back seat of the car.  With him, I feel like I’m on a piece of glass.  I think I married, seemed like everything a young go to.  I loved her.  She was my father, promised they’d never until grade twelve.  As we got older we wore each other’s retain, even saw an X-rated movie.


~ by Laura on March 2, 2009.

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