Tuesday, June 7, 2016


That woman looks so happy
Walking down the street eating her chocolate bar.
Chocolate isn't something I would just eat
Without thinking about it,
Like it was food. Chocolate
Is to be doled out to myself in
Tiny pieces, after I have earned it through
Hard work and a nutritious meal and
Vigorous physical exercise. That's when
I can eat my small square of chocolate.
And this is because my body
Is supposed to be spartan, is not
Supposed to look like it's made
For building babies inside it.
My body is supposed to be
Lean, like a monk, like a captive,
Like a prisoner of war,
Like someone who is not interested
In chocolate, in eating chocolate while
Walking down the street, like that lady
In the long skirt, the loose t-shirt,
The flip-flops, that lady with the body that
Jiggles in the same way mine jiggles
Even though mine is not supposed to.
Mine should be neat like barracks, like
A monastery, like brown rice and steamed
Broccoli, but it's not. Because I have
These hips, this round soft belly,
And most incriminating of all, this ass,
This giant ass, bouncing over plump
Thighs, as if to announce to every gawking passerby:
This is a woman!

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Demon: My Ex-Wife

I just found this comic I made, maybe five years ago, for a project at my job. Our students were writing comics based on Lynda Barry's incredible book One Hundred Demons.  The teachers made demon comics, too. I made mine on paper towels (Barry drew hers on yellow legal pads). I never shared it anywhere beyond my school, because I didn't want to hurt the feelings of the person that it's about. Now that person seems to have disappeared from Facebook, the internet and my neighborhood, as far as I can tell. And I really love this comic, so I wanted to share it before the real, ephemeral version falls apart. If you know this person, you don't need to go telling her all about this, though of course I can't stop you. And if you are this person, know that I love you and wish you all the best. I don't really think you're a demon--just someone who haunts me from the past. 

This is a story about my ex-wife. 

I met her in Ann Arbor, Michigan. We worked together in the grocery store. 

We became best friends right away. We spent all our time together. 

All my friends called her my wife. They called me her wife, too. 

We weren't dating but everyone thought we were. 

My wife was lots of fun when she was in a good mood. She liked to hang out and cook or go out dancing. 

But my wife had an evil side. 

She always told me what to do and got mad at me for no good reason. 

My wife sometimes had another best friend besides me. I enjoyed the break. 

But all the other friends always stopped talking to her. So then she was back to being my wife again. 

One day I snapped, just like all the others. 

After that, we stopped talking. 

I still see my ex-wife sometimes in the coffee shop. We do not speak to each other. 

She is married for real now and has a very cute little daughter. 

I have a recurring dream where she approaches me and wants to be friends again. 

I'm always relieved when I wake up. 

The End.