Neither Bird Nor Plane
Author's note: This is a true story, but Lady Godiva's name has been changed.
• • • • •
I met Lady Godiva on a balmy evening in early spring, and by the time we’d parted ways, I’d learned a good many things. While placing her under arrest, I learned all about compound words and just how many adjectives could be strung together before end punctuation using the word bitch was necessary.
“Does this make you feel good you chicken-shit, nasty-ass, good-for-nothing, sold-out, lame-brain, ugly-as-sin bitch?”
A Passing
My first memory of Jo Williams-Taylor: I’m a first grader at Thomas Jefferson, and I’m sitting in a big-person’s wooden chair. The chair is butted against Mrs. Williams’ big-person’s desk, and I’m being quizzed about my favorite color, my favorite food, and my date of birth. I feel small around the big stuff, and just as I’m sure I’ve answered all the questions incorrectly, a life-long friendship begins. When I revealed my birthday to Mrs....
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