I like hearing her sandals shuffle gracefully

I like hearing her sandals shuffle gracefully along the sandy cattail-riddled path to the shoreline, and the sparkle in her eye when she first sees the surf rolling toward her.

What I don’t like is that boyfriend of hers, Jacko. He is a big lumbering oaf with more muscles than brains. He is always kicking sand in my face on their way by. She gives me a pi

And I'm like: "What the fuck?" and she's like: "math" so I turn to her boyfriend "Jacko" and flex on him with my math skills. Then I took her home and f'ed his bitch like I did his

-tory, composition and geography. I was more than just a student. I was a lover of education. I was the kind of scholar that could make you holler! I caressed my books like they

- I'm a breath artist. I don't breathe like normal people, I breathe in patterns and rhythms, otherwise I forget how to breathe at all. Composition is my essence, my identity, and

what I strive for. But I must keep my blanket nearby, for I lose my mind when I can't smell the sweet scent of dry milk on that old pice of cloth. So I

went about cutting a square of it off so I could place it in my jean pocket for when I travel from home. Being a toddler in the body of a 55 year old white male can be hard, people

… usual folks (not folks who can quote F. Scott Fitzgerald’s story The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) …ill-informed backwaters folks whose brains are age 3 and bodies age 55.

Like me. Say, do you like checkers? Can we play checkers now?