2001-05-14 - 9:01 p.m.
I may nominate this one for a Diarist Award next quarter. She says it better than I can, which in turn spares all y'all from a half-coherent rant on the limits of "palliative care" (or, to be more specific, imagination-impaired people with little or no exposure to terminal illness and/or delirious ravings who presume to legislate other people's pain thresholds. Never mind that marijuana ought to be legal anyway. Oh, wait, I said I wasn't going to rant). That said, I also feel compelled to share with you a poem by Cortney Davis, from her book Details of Flesh:
There is a woman
On a far happier note, I was laughing so hard by the middle of Sarah and Regina's repartee that Abby was looking at me with a very worried expression. Now she's licking my toes. Ah, life is good.
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