bona fide
the bathroom at lit
scar on my knee from falling in the rain in the middle of a night in january, while i was holding a hamburger and running for the taxi he hailed
donna tartt's "the little friend"
mates of state at the bowery ballroom
fake furry mouse, ratty now, that he brought to my new kitten
a hot dog at shea stadium
hot pink shorts and a black top
flip cup at water taxi beach, the night we wrestled in the sand and drew a crowd
photographs, for the first time in my life
gin and tonic in a canada dry bottle
23rd Street/ Ely Avenue stop on the E train
my corduroy couch
the union square barnes and noble, reading the children's book "corduroy" to him
a strip of photo booth pictures, both of us wearing hats, from a dive bar in brooklyn that played only johnny cash
pierogies
$6 spent on buck hunter the day i finally beat him
rollerblades that i tried on once, as he pulled me down the carpeted hallway
wrenched, staccato tears at the JFK airtrain station
a phone call the next morning
a phone call every day since
ferris wheel in edinburgh on new years eve
lost coat in paris
a hotel room so small we couldn't both be standing
two cups of tea at his nan's (childhood pictures of his freckles, knock knees)
conversations on my stoop, outside the train station, in bed, walking down sixth avenue, during lunch
the best night's sleep i ever got at the lake house in finland
definitive gold box edition: twin peaks
lawyer, conference call
a white dress i had since i was 16, my old pink converse, and baby's breath in my hair
the judge, who asked us to promise to take each other as partners and best friends for life
appetizer platter at applebee's afterward
the low california king at the standard
forms 1-864 and DS-230 parts one and two and
fat sheep in ireland six weeks before the election
a two minute fifty five second long voicemail of nothing but the heart burstingly wordless hysteria the night barack obama became president
driving by stonehenge with his mum at the wheel; pictures out the window
mogwai at field day, which we missed because we kissed throughout the whole set
jewelry from a gypsy in sarajevo
the lomo
his eskimo joe's t-shirt that i sleep with, clutched to me like a teddy bear
fattest, freshest mussels at the glass castle, the only pub near lulworth cove, the night i drank white wine because the bartender didn't know how to make a martini and hung my head and cried because i was scared
"bride wars," "knocked up," "confessions of a shopaholic" watched on flights back to new york to keep any sadness muted
postcards taped to the bathroom wall
photographs covering the refrigerator door
kitten
puppy
pupsicle
monkey
squirrel
tickles
babes
meow
i miss you
its almost over
i can promise you
go back to sleep
i'll be there soon
