Slice of Life




I bought a shirt at a cheap 579 type store that needed to be returned. When I got to the store there was a long line snaked around the foyer. I took my place at the back and waited twenty minutes or so while the woman in front of me argued loudly on the phone with her boyfriend. By the time I got to the counter I was over dealing with people. The sales clerk told me that I could only get store credit for the shirt. Not wanting to have to wait in the line again I looked at the tee shirts on the wall behind her and picked out a burnt red shirt with paint splotches on it. “I’ll take that one.” I said pointing.

That night I wore my new shirt to a cook out at my brother’s house. When my bro saw me he shook his head. “What are you wearing?”

“My new shirt, do you like it?”

He smiled, “Do you know what your new shirt says on the back, or even on the front for that matter?”  I looked down at the cursive lettering written across my chest for the first time.  I sounded it out. “La-tin-as.’”

“Yep and on the back it says, ‘Do it better.’” My brother waited as I put the two together.  My mouth slowly opened in shock as he reiterated, “Latinas, do it better.”

~ 10 Year Interlude (insert: Wayne’s World Transition Music) ~



Present Day

Last Sunday I went to Barnes and Noble to buy a journal. There are certain qualities I look for when picking out a journal. First, I like it to have lines and be about the size of a standard book. However, it can’t be too thick or compiled of parchment paper. Then I look for a cool clasp or fun way of opening and closing the journal. Lastly, I consider the cover design. I settled on one that met all my standards and walked to the river to write. I set up my blanket and removed the plastic film from the journal. On the front cover was a gold bow and arrow ontop of beautiful calligraphy. I opened the side clasp, written on the inside page was the word ‘Desire’ with an arrow shooting through it. On the next page there was an inscription:

Within the furthest reaches of the heart

Lie those desires whose name one dares not speak.

So seductive, so intoxicating, so indulgent,

Our most private passions burn at the molten core of our being, luring us to the

Very heights of ecstasy and depths of despair.

Through the ages, the words of impassioned

Lovers have transformed a virginal sheet of

Paper into a sanctuary for a restless heart.

Each of the pages in this journal awaits

The expression of your own desires—

Unedited, undiluted, uninhibited.

Abandon yourself

If you dare.

Amused, and slightly aroused, I closed the journal and read the spine of the book for the first time, ‘Desire, a private journal.’  I flipped through the rest of the book scattered with erotic quotes from the eighteenth century and provocative paintings of angel like figurines.


Some things never change,

A Warrior Princess


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