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I’m sitting at a red light falling in love. She’s cute and small and dark and young. She would have to be young for this brand of romance. I can’t see much of her past the headrest; what’s more, the glare off my windshield and the tint of her back window filters somewhat her evident charm, Read the rest of this entry »

I hate who my dog hates. Not just the mailman, though he’s a good example, but we differ on who to love. I’ve seen the way he looks at other men, women too, with large-eyed, cross-species admiration. If I had to be a man, says the look, I’d be a man like you. Read the rest of this entry »

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The pen name davidbdale honors my mother Beatrice (Bea) and my father Dale

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