sun-bleached bones thought lost to the river // surfacing in search of étymos . . . . . . big fan of bayous
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My ex (who lives in another state) is indeed in this airport, horrifying. He hasn’t noticed me yet
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I met a man there named Puttin.
Yes, Puttin—no, Not *Putin*. He advised me, "two Ts because I'm not that man." He lead us to a tuktuk with a decal of Che Guevara on the front. Greeting everyone we passed with true familiarity, they returned him in kind; bobbling heads, smiling.
I attended an “inter-caste” destination wedding in Tamil Nadu between two first-generation Americans. There I danced with Brahmins (the family of the atheist meat-eating groom) and caste abolitionists (the family of the religious vegetarian bride) alike.
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I liked him most when he was circling Krishna's Butterball photographing us, posing us in ridiculous situations, met by cheers from other Indians. The man laughed like a boy, then.
Afterwards, he jumped into the bough of a tamarind tree and brought down an edible blossom for me.
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I liked him most when he was circling Krishna's Butterball photographing us, posing us in ridiculous situations, met by cheers from other Indians.
The man laughed like a boy, then.
Afterwards, he jumped into the bough of a tamarind tree and brought down an edible blossom for me.
1
21
I attended an “inter-caste” destination wedding in Tamil Nadu between two first-generation Americans. There I danced with Brahmins (the family of the atheist meat-eating groom) and caste abolitionists (the family of the religious vegetarian bride) alike.
1
6
491
