Two perspectives...

“How big do you think God is?” he asked his grandmother. “Well,” she said, “his hands are big enough to hold the entire universe—all of the planets and oceans and stars.” The whole universe? She could see his young mind reeling. “How big do you think God is?” she asked. “Bigger than my dad, but if I curled up in his lap I would be able to press my head against his chest and hear his heart."

Things in boxes...

The movers told her to make a list of her belongings before placing them in boxes, tape sealing the seams. Before handing it over, she looked at the list—measuring spoons, perfume bottles, photograph albums, spine-worn journals, threadbare sleep shirts—a detailed account of her earthly possessions. It was then she realized these things didn't hold any value, and the things she did value could never fit in a box.

The Anna Karenina Principle...

It was their first date. Complete with sudden lulls in conversation and littered with the getting to know you back & forth. They sipped their drinks and laughed. So far, so good. She wanted kids. She was impressively intelligent and driven. She could cook. Check. Check. Check. “Do you like animals?” he asked. “Why yes, I love cats,” she said. He sat there and finished his Jack and Coke, interlacing his fingers and lowering his voice, leaning further across the table. “Hmm…well, do you believe in the Anna Karenina Principle?” he asked. “I believe it holds some merit, but overall, no. No, I don’t,” she said. “I do. Very much so,” he said. And with that he wished her well as he dug in his pocket for exact change and excused himself from the table. Why waste his time with something that was doomed to fail?

She works in reverse...

She works in reverse. When she meets you at a bar —at a coffee shop— she surprises you with her frankness. Where most would shy away, you want to know more. Always more. Late at night she talks on the phone in quiet tones. Sometimes the rawness of her words makes you wince. Their truth burns through you, like whiskey on a dry throat. The grit before the glitter.

A passion for Pinkberry...

If she could, she would eat Pinkberry every day. She loved the way it felt on her tongue. The mixture of berries and chocolate, red and brown flecks scattered in the white cream — the definition of delectable. She ate it in her sweatpants, as passersby observed the way she slowly turned the plastic spoon and opened her mouth for the perfect bite. She ate it in the park, sitting on a bench enjoying the warmth of the sunshine against her skin. She ate it in her pajamas on the sofa, sharing bites with her boyfriend. This was the only time she would share. Because she loved the feeling of his cold lips against hers, and that his breath smelled like chocolate.

elephants

by rachael yamagata

if the elephants have past lives
they're all destined to always remember
it's no wonder how they scream
like you and i they must have some temper

and i am dreaming of them on the plains dirtying up their pads
searching for some sign of rain to cool their hot heads

and how dare that you send me that card
when i'm doing all that i can do
you are forcing me to remember
when all i want is to just forget you

and if the tiger shall protect her young
then tell me how did you slip by
all my instincts have failed me for once
i must have somehow slept the whole night

and i am dreaming of them with their kill
tearing it all apart
blood dripping from their lips
and teeth sinking into heart

and how dare that you say you will call
when you know i need some peace of mind
if you had to take sides with the animals
won't you do it with one who is kind

and if the hawks and the trees need the dead
if you're living you don't stand a chance
for a time though you share the same bed
there are only two ends to this dance

you can flee with your wounds just in time
or lie there as he feeds
watching yourself ripped to shreds
laughing as you bleed

so for those of you falling in love
keep it kind, keep it good, keep it right
throw yourself in the midst of danger
but keep one eye open at night

For a friend who needs to read it...

They left me
with your shadow,
saying things like
Life is not fair

& I believed them
for a long time.

But today,
I remembered
the way you laughed
& the heat
of your hand
in mine

& I knew that
life is more fair
than we can
ever imagine
if
we are there to live it

by Brian Andreas