My Mother, Abra, Had Taught Me That

Cleaning Up After Themselves Was A Low Priority For Margo And My Mother. They Had Both Recovered From Cancer Scares, Failed Marriages, And Lost Hope; In Their Opinion, Dirt Could Wait.

I Wept To Think That Life Went On Even When So Much Had Been Lost, That Rain Still Fell And Myrtle Grew Between The Rocks.

The Best Way To Die Is When Your Living

Burn Me. Drown Me. Tell Me Lies. I Will Still Be Who I Am.

I Love Science Fiction But Especially His Because It's So Humane.