sassy philly preacher's daughter. she placed colorful curses on exes, still they tripped over themselves trying catch her eye. the highway patrolman we bared our breasts to couldn't figure out where to look. we didn't get a speeding ticket.
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.