by John Pupo
There was a luster to the moonlight that couldn’t be captured. Shandi fashioned a lasso out of her western-styled top with the pearlized buttons down the front and tried to capture the moon. Her bare skin almost looked like marble, taut and bright like it’s counterpart in the sky. I reached out wondering if it would have that hard but smooth feel. The force of her slap sent me back a few steps, as her obscenities flew quickly around my ears and into membranes. Clouds gathered and extinguished our light as she put her shirt back on, sealing the fate of that night.
John Pupo is trying to break free of his retail shackles.