I started writing this piece back in 2011 after my father died — with the intention of writing some stories about him, but then I started dreaming about other men I’d known – my first boyfriend, a star crossed love, a former boss, etc., and it was very different writing from other stuff I’d done. Here’s a taste — right now, this is how that work starts.
At the age of 43 I’ve found myself bereft of men. They’re dropping like flies, sneaking out fire escapes, receiving lethal injections. For a while they were everywhere with their opinions and shaving cream and dirty underwear. For a while, they were in my bed and on the couch, at the kitchen table and hanging around my stoop. Like roaches in jeans and t-shirts, they multiplied. And they disappeared like bugs do, too, all of them at once & all of a sudden, and I didn’t notice any one of them was missing until all of them were.
I’ve put more of it up on Patreon, of course.