i remember learning to use a coffee maker for the first time in oakland, when the sunrise was molten on the edges of the hills and turned the kitchen floor into sun-puddles and bacon was a special breakfast my grandmother let me stand on tip-toe and pour the water in it was cold through the…
we pulled up to paradise, trying not to peek at the rubble next door. apprehension seduced me, and we pretended not to watch the scavengers sorting through the shambles of a life, strewn on the sidewalk like crumbs fallen in the corner behind an overfull trash can. i held my breath but nothing happened. you…