I can't remember anything after I kissed you. I don't remember you. But, I remember you in me. You see, I save everything. I'm a collector. i know the human race. i have rubbed them all over my body and yelled at them when they didn't agree with me. Of course they knew I knew you before I was born. In a meadow. By a hemlock. And then, the years were torn away like pages in a calendar that was carved by ghosts on my tomb. i was hidden under the floorboards and creaked over for years, until you mentioned my name and I turned and fell and cried. That's what I remember of love.
My mother was a stripper at the Au GoGo in San Francisco, right on Broadway in the North End. They sold sex by the pound in those days. Stray men came in off their boats […]