My Armor Was Insufficient

Bra, underwear, blue jeans, white tee, leather jacket, sneakers. Small enough to make her sway but ornery enough not to tip over. Plain hair, odd eyes behind thick and enormous glasses – a predetermined nerd. A hand on her waist, fingertips inside her underwear band. And hand larger than her face envelopes and crushes her left breast, seems like it’s trying to rip it off. The breast remains in place, a fresh bruise.

Friends Dissolve

When I was little I had a couple of friends and we would go on grand adventures through bushes, down creeks, across streets and over fences. Nothing could stop us except for my grandmother calling us back. Sandy, who was Alexander, was the closest of my cohorts, he was tall and scrawny with blond hair and blue eyes like water, average traits for where I grew up. Maggie had long brown hair she wore in braids, and was always chattering, but she wasn’t very smart and we would often ignore her when she got going. Sandy lived in my neighborhood so he was over every day, even weekends, and we would eat cookies and milkshakes together after school. Maggie lived on the same street as my grandmother in Fairfax. These were my pals, from grammar school until high school, that I saw nearly every day. One day in high school we were walking to the Jazz room to sit in on class my friend was taking, Alex – since he was now too mature for Sandy – would sit and listen while Maggie played with her still long brown hair and I would draw. We were talking about Alanis Morisette’s album Jagged Little Pill, and Sandy was teasing Maggie and I about one of the songs. I was laughing at him and poked him in the stomach just as someone grabbed my shoulder from behind.

Grand Plan

When I was little I wanted to go to college. Skip grammar school, skip high school and it’s trappings, and suddenly materialize at UC Berkeley. I’d have a girlfriend and when we wanted to be alone we’d just lock the door and tell everyone we were studying.

After studying ‘really old stuff’ I’d live far away from anyone, in a tower – so I could see people coming – with a cat and a refrigerator. And I would sit in the tower and write books until someday, I died. That was my plan.

But of course, none of it happened that way.