"i want a mango tree," she says, not through gritted teeth or clenched jaw, but with some edge in her voice as though a mango tree were some shady dealing. and it is

"i want a mango tree, and a garden"

and the garden is on its way.

is it someone's birthday today? that might be july 14.

i bought three avocadoes last night and two mangoes and i think i will eat at least half of that bunch today.

can you tell me the last time you ate a mango? i remember. lately i am filled with little rememberances of the stories i've never told so that is why i share them with you now.

the last mango i ate was in the early days of the new century and it was also the first mango i'd eaten.

i was taste testing the idea of freedom from my first relationship with a skinny blond headed surfer boy, who sat on top of me while we kissed to the second disc of tori amos' to venus and back, which i haven't listened to in just as long.

he was shocked to learn i had never eaten a mango, so i asked him to teach me.

he did. leaning against the island next to the kitchen sink, we cut open a mango. we each took one half and i wiped the juice from my chin.

he was inconsequential. nothing happened that caused me to prefer one half of to venus and back over the other. it just happened that way.

i don't ever think of him. i only think of mango.

there are more words for this. i think i might actually write something with it. i can hear it in my head, so i just wanted to spit some of them out.

kevin and i had a talk last night. you know the kind, that comes out of nowhere but goes on for hours, things about deep connections and state of relationship type things and how we are each individually functioning in it. i like those talks.

there was a subject that i have repeatedly avoided. that being the number of people we've each slept with, as i knew that mine would be higher (and it was, double on the dot) and that has been a matter of concern for me in the past. we came near it and i, always wondering but knowing i'd have to share if i got his answer, decided to just jump in and hell with it and i don't know why, specific to him, i am ever concerned about anything. rather than fear or a different energy or look at me or what (duh, he KNOWS me) we ended up joking about more details than we've previously shared

and when he asked who was the oldest person i'd slept with, i had to laugh very hard and hide my head under the blanket for fear of telling him the real answer. i did shave a few years off and refused to answer any further questions on the subject

and instead told him the short story of the time of the second oldest, who i pursued until i was received and had i taken him seriously, things might have ended up differently.

and he said, "oh, i wish i'd known that when i met him."

and i said, "no, no. it's better this way."