while hippie parents were drinking wine and passing joints in the backyard, the kids were channeling lord of the flies. he threw a tinkertoy cannister at my head, i still have the scar- but undaunted, i prevailed as benevolent dictator.
I'm a cook. And I write, sometimes about food, mostly poems. I make stuff. I get lost. I'm worried about vanishing bees, melting icecaps, the decrease of civility in the world, seedless watermelons, and whether there will be enough time for me to get it all right.
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