personals                                                                                                                                   by c.d. wright

                                                                          some nights I sleep with my dress on.

                                         my teeth are small and even.

                                                                 i don’t get headaches.

             since 1971 or before, I have hunted a bench where I could eat my pimento cheese in peace.

                                                                                           if this were tennessee and across that river, arkansas, I’d meet you in west memphis tonight.

                                                                                                                                  we could have a big time.

                                           danger, shoulder soft.

                                                        do not lie or lean on me.

                                                                                                                                               i’ve seen people die of money.

                                                                                   look at admiral benbow.

                                       i wish like certain fishes, we came equipped with light organs.

                                                                 which reminds me of a little known fact: if we were going the speed of light,

                                                                                                                                  this dome would be shrinking while we were gaining weight.

                               isn’t the road crooked and steep.

                                                                            in this humidity, I make repairs by night.

                                                   i’m not one among millions who saw monroe’s face in the moon.

                                                                                                             i go blank looking at that face.

                                                                                                                                                                                      if I could afford it I’d live in hotels.

                                                                                          i won awards in spelling and the australian crawl.

                 long long ago. grandmother married a man named ivan.

                                                                                           the men called him eve.

                                                                            stranger, to tell the truth, in dog years I am up there.