Love Story

Up late last night, working on a book of stories and splashes (art). Who knew that living in a boatyard could be so productive? Shoulda hauled out long ago… 

Here’s an excerpt from “Love Story:”

Our hands speak another language, independent of the kissing language. Our hands are chatterboxes, always commenting, caressing, caroming from hill to dale. Mine. Yours. Our hands speak when our vocal chords having nothing or too much to say. Tight with fright, our hands smooth the way, soften the imagined blows, quiet and still the chattering monkey love. My thumb has a crush on your index finger. Your pinkie wants to walk my palm home.

Just published, Shoulds are for Saints: the true life adventures of Suzy Le Speed

—along with Dance First …ask questions later: poems and paintings