the sweet scent of oranges warm yellow walls her curtains were gingham like the aprons she sewed        

yard karma

  July 3, 1971 driving my friend’s family’s Lincoln Continental from Edgartown to Vineyard Haven picked up few hitchhikers along the way someone turned on the radio to the news that Jim Morrison had died    


              there were signs during the summer of 1968 she couldn’t remember my name      

paradise lost

    my dad was a blue collar worker, an electrician at one time he worked three jobs just to keep us afloat going out to eat was a luxury and usually meant hitting up the little italian joint down the street I liked playing the jukebox one saturday he surprised us with a road trip to the shore we swam in the ocean…