I saved my tickets like I saved my wine: the older they aged, the murkier the taste.
I'm twenty-three and that doesn't really count for anything except that I'm in my prime.
Tender slop of meat, drizzled with marinade, seasoned with spice, ready to heat.
At the rising tension, beginning to rise intensely, or drop mildly, or drop deadly.
O, burst of sultry in my body, won't you tighten the lid to the mayo jar in the fridge?
There was a sweep of frost that brushed against my socks and the second shelf's glow
has gotten ahold of me.
-christopher uller
