Two Is Company, Three Is A Good Time

Every sentence is a false pregnancy, fully loaded with a thought but as empty as good-night. He’s ordering a rum and coke, I’m pretending to look around, she’s gone to labor with what’s to come. Silence piling on silence. I remind myself to breathe,...

I Get High With My Baby (then we smoke)

I-just-want-to-be-home doesn't mean much until it's 5AM and I'm skinless once again. My baby doesn't mind the perfume and I'm huff and steaming of cigar smoke. She kisses me like it were something funny, laughs at the haste on my tongue like it was a...