Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights; the accumulations of a lifetime gather there

August. We were arguing. You want love to be like this every day don't you? 92 degrees even in the shade.

I looked at my palms trying to see the other life, the parallel life. The point at which my selves broke away and one married a fat man and the other stayed here.

The impulse to worship is impossible to eradicate. Even the most prosaic have to worship something.

Only the impossible is worth the effort.

We are told not to privilege one story above another. All the stories must be told. Well, maybe that's true, maybe all stories are worth hearing, but not all stories are worth telling.

Know thyself,’ said Socrates. Know thyself,’ said Sappho, ‘and make sure that the Church never finds out.