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The Growing Season
The young woman sipped her merlot. Slowly. As if she expected it to be poisoned. And she wished to God it had been.
Letter to a Young Empath
Dear Empath, I know how you feel, My Love. Odds are, if you were here, you would know how I feel as well. That is your gift. It is mine as well.
Mittens The Great
Sir, I was a Poet. Don’t babble at me in that sing-song way. In a former life, I was renowned. Bold men wept openly at the beauty of my ballads.
In Defense of the People We No Longer Speak to
Are we still mad at Trump? I guess the better question is “Are we still mad at the people who liked him?” This week, I got an email blast from some Facebook guru who got into my email list because of a quiz that asked “What is Your Creative Spirit Animal?” I confess, as a Millennial, I’m a sucker for a good (or even bad) personality quiz, but I digress.