Tsukiyohei

 The Laundromat at 79th and Jackson was underneath a Chinese restaurant, so the place always stunk of detergent and sweet and sour sauce. During the day, it was packed with people from the Arts District and the Business District. Other people rarely showed up to wash their clothes at two AM. John liked the quiet, when it was just him and the low hum of the machine. Besides, if he came during regular hours, he'd have to weave his wheelchair through people shuffling from one machine to the other, dodging laundry baskets and children fidgeting next to their mothers. John's nose wrinkled as he separated his clothes into the washers. Tightey white

My balls were sticking to my inner thigh like a baby seal clinging to an Antarctic shore. Unfortunately, the camera was pointed right at me, so I couldn't do the leg-shake maneuver to get them loose. I saw the set of “’Hello, Good Morning!’ with Buster” through two pea-sized holes drilled into my velvet helmet. Crayola had puked on the walls, the floor, the blocks, the rug, and even Buster. That was me, the rainbow-colored dog that came up on TV from dawn ‘til noon. Outside of Buster’s Play Pen was the black, soulless collection of cameras and producers and directors sitting in fold-up chairs who occasionally yel

I was too bashful to look at him through the mirror. I had hoped that my overly large shirt with the stretched-out collar would secretly send the message that I wanted him to jump my bones. It didn't.

I hope that my leaving is just a minor hurt Yet knowing that worse leads to worse And how fretting multiplies, but starts inert I will remind you of what we have with verse Our love is like an ice box that sits bold In the corner of a kitchen, dormant and hushed A warm lifeline feeding and keeping the insides cold Even as it works at its own pace, never rushed The best goodbye would be in the box’s back Taken only when loneliness paints the dark skies Then, it would be drawn from the very last rack Like a pint of rocky road in “Comfort Me” size So I say, with love entwined in lines and feet Despite the curving

The only way, dear To describe how I love you Is with a curt ziiiiip

"...let's grow old together," he said, nuzzling her neck. She laughed and curled her orange-tipped fingers into his palm. "Only if we still have ice cream."