Lawless Letters

Think about how many times I have fallen Spirits are using me, larger voices callin' … And we never failed to fail, it was the easiest thing to do You will survive being bested Somebody fine will come along, make me forget about loving you - "Southern Cross", Crosby, Stills, & Nash A couple of weeks ago, I was in a mood. An intense, teenage mood: fierce, negative, and hard to get out of (for the record, I'm 20+ years past teenager-hood). It gripped me in its fist. I isolated myself, waiting for the storm to pass, not wanting to rain on my husband and kids. After some analysis, the cause of my mood became clear to me: an accumulation of recent events in which I felt like a failure. No specific event was devastating, but there sure were a lot of them: I’d spent too much money on Zulily (my guilty-pleasure shopping website). I’d consumed too much dessert and alcohol, and the bathroom scale displayed the evidence.  I missed a chiropractor appointmen

Dandelions are one man’s weed, another man’s gold. Poem Style: Lune

The airplane left Texas behind and soared southward. Nelly looked through the Woman’s Day magazine she had found in the seat pocket. It was from last year, March 1970. She flipped past “Bright, New Spring Fashions.” Then an article caught her eye: “Should a Woman Make a Will?” A stewardess, carrying a notepad, approached. “Tequila, please. On the rocks,” Nelly told her. Suddenly Nelly remembered a story from one of her brother’s old western magazines. A Texan had killed his wife and fled on horseback to Mexico, grabbing what he thought was a jug of water but turned out to be tequila. After several days running from the law, he finally reached the border, sunburned and starving, and fell down dead. Funny that she should recall that story now. Everything would be fine once she got to Mexico City, Nelly told herself. Pete would meet her at the airport. Just another hour. In her lap, her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt. Some motion at the front of the plane caught her ey