Lips... were ubiquitous in the ‘50s, when a few icons of womanhood were tattooed onto my temporal lobes. - Andrea Lewis

A cottonwood leaf beetle scuttled out of the loosened earth, frantic legs working the sandy dirt, orange and black body desperate for a new hiding place. The sunset was fading, and a bloated ocher moon pushed its way into the dark blue sky.

Each somersault whipped out a perfect arc of shiny drops from his thick black hair. Then, as if it were his decision and not gravity’s, he opened the blade of his body toward the water and pierced its placid blue surface.

Rodney, whatever is the opposite of philosophy?
"My dear, the opposite of philosophy is terror."
"Terror? You mean fear of death?" I asked.
"I don't think so..."
"Fear of what, then?"
"Of never having lived."