I went back on birth control pills and holy moly: instant boob job.

(and)

To the cashier at Yakima Fruit Market:

Hey, quit flirting with my husband because you think he looks like Moby.

My lint roller’s the closest I’ve come to being felt up in ages.

Dorothy leans in to say my eyebrows look exceptional today.

At night I am rewoven but wake dragging raffia behind me.

Most dust is skin, which is pretty disturbing when you think about it.

Our shadows lull us into thinking we’re more attractive than we are.

Crack of pigeon wings against bodies as the hurried flock parts for me.

(and)

Dry needles clog drains every night when we forget how to sleep tangled.

Balmy has been a memory since my move to Bothell, Washington.

Skin slick with baby oil, I could go slip-sliding at any second.

Wipers on high to remove the fallen pine needles from my windshield.