I Doubt Trees Are Ever Told To

It Doesn't Hurt. Nothing Hurts Except The Small Smiles And Blushes That Flash Across The Room Like Tiny Sparrows.

I Want To Be In Fifth Grade Again. Now, That Is A Deep Dark Secret, Almost As Big As The Other One. Fifth Grade Was Easy -- Old Enough To Play Outside Without Mom, Too Young To Go Off The Block. The Perfect Leash Length.

It Was Like Looking At A Knot, Knowing It Was A Knot, But Not Knowing How To Untie It. I Had No Map For This Life.

I've Written In Every Imaginable Location; A Repurposed Closet, The Kitchen Table, The Bleachers While My Kids Had Basketball Practice, The Front Seat Of The Car When They Were At Soccer. In Airports. On Trains. In The Break Room When I Was Supposed To Be Wolfing Down Dinner. In The Back Of Classrooms When I Was Supposed To Be Paying Attention.

He Doesn't See My Breasts Or My Waist Or My Hips. He Only Sees The Nightmare.