when I was older

I wasted my precious time

and died bit by bit

but now that I am younger

I feel and dance til I can’t

remnants was originally published in Literally Literary on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

tits erect, legs abreast

her alto calves command her boots to attention,
just as the hour is annotated happy
by the tic of the little hand and the toc of its big.

set and stride, sure and defined,
she engulfs the gaze of thirsted patrons
and wetted ones alike.

as often as she does, and in care and form,
she unmasks past the veil we adorned her
to embrace us with ease and fizz.

quenched, felt, seen, and heard we are
her boots and tits, now irrelevant
in tune with the wonder of sliced bread.

.

her spine at alee, our exhales in hand,
she glides away, shrugging us to awes amidst dismays

and then—damn,
that designed glance and a nodded wink
unmasks again, another veil she herself wears

there she is:

your netflix and netflix bff,
your girl next door,
the stoner alibi pal if needed be.

fuzzies, La Croix, Merlot, and pretzels,
knitted blankets, cashmeres, and colas just cause.

"i’d like to help, but my hands are covered in Cheetos"

and now we’ve met her

*she*

she was originally published in Literally Literary on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

My name is Edna, and I like pencils — the graphite, a welcomed guest; the casing- just that.

My nickname is Piglet, but no one likes to call me that. I reckon the ‘why’ lies along my Bantu arcs that outline ‘the me’, ergo too close to home.

As it should be.

I did do, and that I did, induce a colleague or two to receive me as Piglet. They did, and indeed, so sincerely orate my name:

Piglet!

Just as they did -and just then — or maybe a bit after, flutters sprung from the bottom of their heart to the trails of mine.

I cradled from Jupiter’s IO.

Whilst in transit, the blink of a day dream wiggled into focus betraying mine. I exited the transporting vessel at the wrong spot — I ended up here amongst you all. Alas, just and so are we.

The right spot, found.

I think in skits and bell curves, and sometimes venn diagrams too!

I sing, dance, flamenco, play violin, and I’m a great mathematician. Oh no, this is not the me that’s here, but all the other forms of me in the constellations and arrays of stars, a distance and much more,

… far from you and I.

In this world, I’m just Edna!

or..

Piglet -to me and my loyalists,

Buttercup to some,

Brownie to my Xabi,

Schmupcake to Cupcake,

…and Duckling to my once darling Isaac, whence alphabets would at times forth to drunken rhymes therewhich,

a fuckling I became.

Were I a betting one- and yes I’ll partake — then a bitch, a dickhead, and a cocky motherfucker are just a few more that susurrate and resound from the lips of those who’ve glimpsed behind the butcher’s curtain.

As words are just such, these are a few yeses that make a whole lot of me — some I’ve yet to see.

I love crosswords just as I do hosiery stockings, the morning dew, and friends that make me feel just! And yes yes, as well as those that tickle the synapses yet to be.

My indifference resides at the core of a hard boiled egg.

I did once, but no longer do, search for, nor have a mission. I resolved to just be and whatever the state of being, then that I will, alongside all around me that just are.

As fact as a fact is, you and I won’t be here that long — as it was written and unwritten; impertinent a script.

In comfort with my micros, macros, receptors, microbes and all that makes me and maybe you — I vow to be as very as one can be while I sway in this cluster until dusk embraces me…

and so, shall we meet again,

be it here or the other parallel.

-piglet or nyet-

E.M Pauling (brb) 2025

`

tip tap two was originally published in Literally Literary on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I sat bored musing at the likelihood of my plant blooming.

Just as I was about to skip to the next thought, the door rang.

“Your next delivery is here.”

I wasn’t ready to wake from Lightman’s ethereal Einstein’s dreams, but now I was to be submitted to Houellebecq’s isms.

The theme this week:

The Friday Fix Story Prompt for May 15th, 2020

My titles:

Einstein’s Dreams by Alan Lightman

Submission by Michel Houellebecq

Read Lightman, currently reading Houellebecq.

The Friday Fix Prompt: Two Titles was originally published in The Friday Fix on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A viral summer

Of indolence and dire dusks

Feed me to your gods

Smeared by your vices
beat chronic as a yucca
doggedly, I thrive

Alas this heartache
Ode to giving love a chance
As I close this door
My feeble ticker to keep
An eternal scar to loathe

Mikhail zigzagged hastily through the exuberant office holiday party.

He’d found her!

“Martha! I accidentally packed my girlfriend’s gift instead of yours. Could you not open it in front of the whole office? Please?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah….”

“Well, I’ll still take it!” she winked cunningly and shimmied off to the rhythm.

Not-So-Secret Santa was originally published in The Friday Fix on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Alan paced about as Aileen watched him in between every few stitches she threaded.

“Should I put a kettle on?”

“No!”

“Okay then…”

“How come the one time we decide not to put a stocking out for her, is when she decides to show up! No text even! Inconceivable!”

“Dad?”

The Prodigal One was originally published in The Friday Fix on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

She sat broad and unshaken. Her skin savored the sweetness of the mild breeze that punctuated the pleasant, afternoon rays. She adjusted her roundness deeper against the sand mound she had made to accommodate her wealthy bottom.

The only thing on her mind was, “Tacos or Burrito?”

Life was good.

Today’s Menu was originally published in The Friday Fix on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.