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Fallen leaves remind me of November in Portland. They are green now; they were red then. Angels danced in rainstorms, and lovemaking struck lightning. They stirred something in me, something familiar. Something kind of like hope. Something kind of like home.

Birthday in Bali

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It was green. So, so green. The epitome of earthiness. The Tegalalang Rice Paddies reminded me of green tea and tamarind. Sprinkles of lemongrass and sprouts of Cleopatra’s rose. I stared so long I swear my eyes began to bleed into the sky. Standing out over the edge, I realized this is life. This is what living must be. And I regret that I had not done more of it. It was set behind miles of street markets and bustling cement roads. Watching women sit under ceiling fans and men pick bits of banana from their teeth. I wandered into the most stunning textiles shop. I cannot possibly describe the colors. I was feverish from the amount of colors.

What Victory Feels Like

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It’s the sound of handcuffs locking around his wrists. It’s the cops taking him away. Far, far away. For years and years. God, yes, it is the sound of handcuffs. It is calling Gavin, calling Ashli. It is sharing the news that is nearly two decades late. But better late than never. It’s knowing I’m going to be okay. We are all going to be okay.

What We Don’t Talk About

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Now there’s talk of militarizing the moon. Stripping away whatever purity is left, maybe we are all just broken angels with busted wings. Or maybe all of the angels have come and gone, the devils live here now.

Slow Kisses and Kerosene

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You are helping me find this new version of me. I let the darkness dissipate. I feel childhood again – you know, what it’s really supposed to be like. Ink-stained fingertips and chalkboard sidewalks, bed forts and belly laughs. Growing up innocent and idyllic.

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