essays by shé

Tag: sex

  • Fishing

    “Where’s your husband?” asks a stocky, mustachioed man halting before me. He holds a long fishing rod in one hand. With a mouth full of burrito de machaca, I gesture to the butcher shop across the street. He moves on down the Loreto sidewalk, twirling his reel.  It’s hot, but I’m too hungry to find…