I'm writing this on July 9, because I need to make up for not posting on July 1. It's late though, and I just finished my July 8 post, so I'm going to share this poem. It says so much, so much better than I could.
I am being held hostage here by Dolores, my unintentional Muse. I have little control over the content of this blog, except to make sure it's the truth. Don't try to save me. She has long fingernails and when she cracks her toes the sound will make you crazy. Don't ask me how I know.
(Profile photo: front window of a gay porn store in a small midwestern city near you.)