This page deserves a masterpiece. All I can offer are a few commas and a period. Bed, sweet bed, she beckons like the greatest lover of them all.
How kind it is to have the walls painted Navajo White. There is a picture of a woman drowning, a cow, a man with a glass of milk, a poem, a calender, and a light switch. The need to decorate has subsided.
Helen said she was a cowboy in a past life. Perry opted for a drugged-out rock star. I said I was a beautiful black woman who played her guitar in Frisco and jumped from a bridge. We ate cheese fries at a diner in Yonkers, and played Marvin Gaye on the jukebox, Elvis, and Johnny Cash. Dancing as we ate, head bopping with each dunk in ketchup. Dreaming away adolescence, for hot wings and vanilla milk shakes, hoping somehow that our futures might make up for the present.