Chilanga Sprinkles
Vignettes
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I sit on the couch, a cooling cup of coffee nestled in my hands, my flesh absorbing its remaining warmth. I sit, silently making an argument for laying my stiff morning body on the floor to stretch. Thinking about how it would be me then transferring heat to the floor not yet warmed by sun.…
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The Donuts’ shop is like any other Shipley Do-Nuts. The glass-less display cases sits behind the counter. The donuts are predictably arranged by type of filling, with the cake separated from the yeast, and each of these in turn showcased in single-color rows. The dark-pink cherry donut share a tray with lighter pink strawberry. Mr.…
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She is brought back from near slumber by the sound of his chest hair crackling softly under the light pressure of his fingers gliding through it. She struggles with this sound, with this action. It elicits jealously. She is unsure if it comes from not being the object of his touch or if it comes…
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We lie side by side. Our legs entangled. His head resting close to mine. His hands exploring the contours of my face while my fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the feathery softness. The fan above wafts the scent of his semen into my nostrils. I can feel it dribbling…
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I lie next to the tiny human. She is flesh of my daughter, and so she is flesh of my flesh. I’m supposed to sleep. Instead, I lie awake while she sleeps, guarding her. But really, I am just selfishly delighting in her newness. A day shy of four months, she lies bow-legged, her arms…
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Your born-too-late hippie heart wants edible flowers, so you go to the grocery store of privilege. You go there when your hippie heart wants stuff, because you know hippies and guccies like similar things. You brush your teeth, debate whether to throw on a bra and nearly decide against it. It’s not quite triple-digits hot…
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You wake up cold, wet, and with an intense need to pee… some more. You don’t want to move. Movement might alert the boy sleeping next to you, deepening your shame. You’ve only been sharing a bed for three months, and you never imagined that at 19 years of age you would be wetting…
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Today she is more girl than woman. Her stare is distant, her face tense and controlled. Her jaw bulges under the strain. She never verbalizes emotion, not because she doesn’t know how, but because she is a private person. I know this is not anger. When she is angry, her stare is cold. With trepidation,…
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Cocooned in the sheets of our lovemaking, as if enveloped by you once more, I breathe the slow breaths of sleep, inhaling the medley of our sloughed off cells. The sounds of our life drifts into the bedroom. A closing door. The sound of your coffee cup filling. The clunky spinning of the toilet paper…
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We sat on the bed, two adult women in pajamas, the way teen-aged girls do at spend-the-nights. She’d called half an hour before, asking to come over. I had waited for her car headlights and opened the door as quietly as the squeaky hinges allowed. We’d padded up the stairs, her pregnant body moving with…
Chilanga Sprinkles 