In an open letter to her blender,

“Did you enjoy your little bath this morning? I wanted you to feel fresh before I take you on the road. You see, I’ve become rather accustomed to enjoying a daily smoothie, and bringing you with me is the best way to make this likely.”

In an open letter to her phone,

“You are a constant reminder of my interests and proclivities. Today, for instance, when I decided to look for some information about The Doobie Brothers, I was greeted by the results of my images search for Huel Perkins….”

In an open letter to her jilted novel,

“I have to admit that you were a convenient receptacle for my basest and most reprehensible thoughts. You loved it when I let pretty words dance together in order to describe something disgusting. That’s all you’re getting out of me….”

In an open letter to a baguette,

“The things we did together this morning made me think of you all day long. I imagined peeling back your paper. I waited for the moment when my teeth would tear through your crackly exterior. Save some for tomorrow morning….”

In an open letter to my jilted novel,

“Wow. You really are getting desperate. I Investigate a song and find out that it’s ‘Old Devil Moon.’ I go tumbling down an internet tangent and find myself at Toni Morrison’s feet. What are you trying to do to me? It’s been over three years since we’ve last known each other….”

In an open letter to the blender,

“I suppose that I should just be grateful that this isn’t a eulogy. I know that I’ve been working you hard every day with all of my smoothie making, but yesterday, you gave me a scare. I guess you don’t like to blend collard greens? Maybe I should have romanced you better, seductively adding the […]