The memory comes fast and furious like an Alabama storm. How I used to drive you to the trailer park past Plantation Hills so you could fuck men for 35 dollars a pop, migrant workers that lived two too many to a bedroom. Were you even 18 then? You’d give me 10 dollars to drive you; 20 if I said no and really meant it. A couple quick shooters and you could have enough to last the weekend. The best rocks were dense. Ribbed like slickrock, the moon rocks you buy at the hippy store, the ones me...| Brevity: A Journal of Concise Literary Nonfiction
Sure, sex is great, but have you ever clocked out of a waitress shift on a night when everything went right instead of wrong and at the exact moment you’re pulling out of the parking spot you performed laborious geometry to fit into someone yells “I love your truck!” and you drive home with the windows down blasting Tori Amos and you find that you don’t care, not even a little, if you’re hitting the notes because it’s a warm, wet night in deep spring and every frog in the world si...| Brevity: A Journal of Concise Literary Nonfiction