If I’d died that day, the mourning would have faded by now, the sharp edge of memories dulled and bearable. Tears dried save the occasional season, or place, or song. And the lives with which I was once so undeniably intertwined would be moving on. New days and different ways would be well on their…
If I were a man, I wouldn’t lie. I might let little ones slip here and there, but not the big ones. The big lies change everything; they cause irreparable damage. I’d know that. As a man, I would take responsibility for my actions, even if, along the way, I had become someone who mocked…
If I were eleven, I would smell like sweat and sunscreen. I would live in a neighborhood with a windy road and a hill so I could ride my bike, the blue one with the peeling sticker, and never get bored. My bike would have a broken kickstand. I’d have to lay it near the…
If I were a painter, I would wear a twist of string tied to my ankle long ago by a lover who never promised and left before I ever asked. I would live and work in an echoing flat with iron floor-to-ceiling windows and colorful but cracked tile in the tiny toilet. The window near…
If I were a dog walker, I would keep sprouted mung beans in my bag. Maybe some bits of cooked chicken too. And one of those collapsible water bowls, just in case people let us down. I would live in a big city. The city of my childhood so I’d know all the nooks and…
If I were a seamstress, I would work in the theater. My hair would be long, wavy, and tucked into a bun with those sticks, or maybe an ornate pin. I would wear tunic tops and gaucho pants, but not linen. It’s too heavy and it wrinkles. I’d smell like roses and tobacco. If I…
If my boobs were small and I was skinny, I would eat cake every day for breakfast and lunch. Sometimes frosting, sometimes not, but always cake. At night, I would choose between lasagna and pizza. Real lasagna with real cheese or pizza with the perfect amount of crust and a sauce that wasn’t too sweet.…
If I were a mechanic, I would bring my lunch in a paper sack. During the winter months, I’d take a thermos of soup to chase off the cold. My garage would be a small two bay place, painted white with blue trim. Outside would hang a sign in dark blue script that read Mechanic on Duty.…
If I were a hairdresser, I would want to be called a “dresser” and not a “stylist.” I would own a little two chair place in a small town, tucked close to a bakery. Â Every morning, just as the sun was coming up, I would walk to work. Â Down the hill, past the small garage…