Russian Rubdown

If I could Match.Com me a perfect doesn’t-have-to-talk companion his name would be Sven and he would be a 6’4” Swedish masseuse.  Instead I’m following a tiny Russian woman to a suspect back room to get mostly naked and shell out the equivalent of a Tiny House Nation mortgage for a professional rubdown.  I hope.  … More Russian Rubdown

Finding Bukowski

  I read Bukowski today, a poem for swingers, bookmarked and coffee-stained, living words I once knew by heart.   I read Bukowski today, slid him off a dusty shelf and trailed my fingertips along his side, spine cracked and stiffened, a lover neglected.   I read Bukowski today just after sunrise, with gritty eyes … More Finding Bukowski