I’ve never been tempted by the idea of immortality (surely all those years must drag one into another at some point, who wants to hang around for that long?) and I’ve never cared much for physical beauty or youth (I prefer the anonymity of mediocrity and look forward with eagerness to my first gray hair) but housing prices these days are just outrageous, it’s almost criminal, and thus if I’m guaranteed a little cottage in the woods, all paid up and legally mine, then sure I could use my witchy wiles to lure a couple kids a year into my cauldron and cook up whatever spells you want, my singing’s not half bad, does the talking cat come with the cottage or is he extra?


“Dear Dental Hygienist”

I exercise frequently, though not joyfully.
I get my eight hours of sleep, my eight glasses of water, my three meals a day.
I don’t eat red meat or greasy food,
fatty food, fried food, or fast food.
I take vitamins B and D, and Airborne when I get a cold.
I go to the doctor, the chiropractor, and the dentist
and I floss every night.
I look both ways before crossing the street;
I don’t smoke, drink alcohol, or drive without my seatbelt.
So, you know what?
If I want to drink sugary black tea every day
and rot my teeth in the process,
I feel I’ve earned it.
I think I’ll live.