Six Vignettes
Ashley D. Escobar
Sometimes he’ll cum on my face, and I’ll have to hear about it in one of his poems.
Sometimes he’ll cum on my face, and I’ll have to hear about it in one of his poems.
I stopped taking the Wellbutrin cold turkey during the 2020 lockdown... All was well until one day when an ex that I had a tumultuous history with demanded I undo the hex I placed on his dick. The accusation sent me spiraling.
Picture me, splayed on the bed on top of Liz. I’m wearing a pink thong, she’s still in her jeans. She spanks me; I deserve it. She spanks me again. My breath flees my lungs, a flock of geese taking
We found ourselves in Kohl’s a few months later. I was home for the holidays, and Mom and I were standing in the women’s department, staring at shelves of bargain business casual.
your uncle has a whiteboard on his wall and on it it says TO DO: TELL TERRY YOU LOVE HER. he wrote that you don’t know how many years ago. terry was his girlfriend but she’s dead now
I swore off intimacy for a long time and tried to replicate the feeling with a heating pad, a body pillow, and a vibrator but ended up most nights just crying in bed with a bottle of vodka.
I felt like a fool in the rain as I sat under the shower head.
The seductress in my head smiled and said “What else am I not allowed to talk about, Avery?”
But we were just going to be friends.
When reciting the Ten Plagues in Hebrew, we customarily dip our knives into our wine glass for each plague and set a drop of wine on our dinner plate.
Showboat said he'd like to take me out sometime. I asked why.
“Because I think you’re attractive, and so we can hang out somewhere other than the coffee trailer,” he said.
It was October, ten
One morning on McSweeney’s there was an announcement about a new literary festival in Philadelphia organized by Neal Pollack. It was going to be called the 215 Festival (named after the city’s area code) and would feature readings by Dave and Zadie and Matthew Klam and Neal, as well as other young, McSweeney’s type writers.
Do we keep our husbands’ secrets,
or distribute them like sweets
amongst ourselves?
I stand just a couple inches from the mirror in my grandma’s guest bathroom at her house in New Mexico, my breath fogging up the glass. As I brush my teeth, I give myself the once over and tug at the
For, indeed, posole shows you he can cook. He fancies an air of the quixotic.
He must be a feminist.
This isn’t the first time someone I considered a friend has confessed their love for me.
I am supposed to call myself a survivor, but honestly I don’t think surviving is what I’ve been doing.
Okay guys today I'm going to be making you one of my favorite dishes from childhood with a couple of my own little twists. My mom used to make this all the time and I just love it. It's suuuper
While I sucked my husband’s penis he gaped at the sky, to which he exclaimed, “That’s the most orange orange I have ever seen!”
She wears those sharp button downs, tucked into pants with riding boots, and a blunt bob. Sometimes, even, a tie. Knotting, unknotting, re-knotting in the smudged dorm mirror, how many tries does it take to get right?
The first fries I had when I was a kid weren’t from McDonald’s but from The Odeon.
The first man is the only one that kills you.
—COLETTE, La Naissance du Jour
Who is Angel? Who am I.
Have you ever loved a mirror?
Laughed, on suicide watch, until Kool-Aid spilled
What most people don’t know is that most of your town butchers are on some kind of pill, powder, or liquid, to get them through the day.
I
am the only man to come to Las Vegas w/an ex-gf and not fuck her—arriving two nights early on my own to hike up in
Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?
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