eating sundried tomatoes in oil, straight out of the jar
while watching Oprah on the downstairs couch, the couch upon which last month I spilled
hot lemon-chicken soup (still smells zesty and greasy)
I am thinking about Chad, whose baby is a boy—congratulations, I think—and
the time I was working as a Christmas-time perfume pusher for Givenchy
and the East Indian ladies would come by every day
to spray the armpits of their dresses with Obsession by Calvin Klein
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