Dangerous Compassions

too much

Last night Ming went to a coffeehouse concert our friend sang at.   I went to a different coffeehouse a mile away and wrote letters, ate a cookie.

Three people walked in dressed in medieval costume.  The ren faire was going on across the street.  I liked the lady’s wooden staff.

Someone who is a brother to me just told me he and his girlfriend broke up.  I really liked her, so I’m sad.  I wanted her around.  He said he was too much for her.  He still has a lot of her stuff.

“Do you want to ship it to her?” I asked.  She’s part Japanese-American and left special teas and seaweed condiments in the Freedom House kitchen.

There’s a booksale at a library.  I don’t need books but want to go just to see.

I would like to write her (the ex) a beautiful letter.  A love letter.  But that’s the thing.  I think I’m too much for her too.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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