Dangerous Compassions

because of bees

Yesterday I saw my friend P in the afternoon. We talked for an hour then did stuff for an hour: I helped her print a portion of her yahoo address book, I looked at a beautiful logo, she played me some music. Then the little neighbor boy came over. He had a rock named Jack.

“Is it your pet rock?” I asked.

“No, it’s just Jack,” he said. He also said P needed to close the door because bees could come in, and she wouldn’t be able to catch them because she’s too old.

This morning I went to Trader Joe’s right when they opened, and it wasn’t busy. I’ve been reading a copy of off our backs which I need to review for Feminist Review. It’s super-good but heavy.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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