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Teresa Strasser

Teresa Strasser

Singles – Poetry in Motion

In one night, I had dinner at an all-you-can eat salad bar in Arcadia, met my father\’s first girlfriend in 25 years and weathered a nearly disastrous poetry emergency.

Sound the onomatopoetic sirens; this thing was a relationship 911. Free verse was about to cost my father the best relationship of his life. And it was my fault. What rhymes with \”Zero tact\”?

So there I was, sitting across the table from dad\’s new girlfriend, trying to impress her, using my best table manners, eating forkfuls of canned beets on my self-consciously dainty salad and thinking to myself: \”This is just weird.\”

So Uncool, It’s Cool

I favor the type of acrylic French tip nails that are considered fashionable only by midlevel porn stars.

He’s my …

The term \”boyfriend\” is like the knee joint on someone who is morbidly obese. It is being asked to do way more than it was designed to do. It is buckling under the pressure. Where it once could do the job, it is now carrying too much weight

The List

The List has taken over. If you are male, you may not be aware of this, but if you are female, you probably already have one.

Twisted Spinster

My friend has a red velveteen frog that lives on the arm of her red velvet sofa. Her living room has become the gathering place for our little group, five of us, all single.

Read All About It

There\’s nothing inherently wrong with reading celebrity gossip magazines. If you can do it in moderation, I applaud you (and please let me know if Lindsay Lohan\’s dad ever gets his act together). In my case, however, I was a problem reader and I had to put the magazines down.

Saying Goodbye to an Angel in Sin City

It\’s Davidson, as in Ronald Davidson, my stepfather. He died yesterday at 62 and that\’s why I\’m at a funeral home out on Charleston Boulevard in Las Vegas. My mom is here, too, and though there are copious boxes of proper tissue in the place, she is clinging to the roll of toilet paper she\’s had by her side since returning from the hospital with nothing but a bag of Ron\’s stuff: slippers, a stack of Louis L\’Amour paperbacks, his watch.

Do I Know You?

I was headed into a pizza joint for a slice when I noticed a guy whose face looked eerily familiar. I couldn\’t place him but he gave me a subtle nod, frat-boy style.

Just as I snapped my head back to make sure it actually was the dude from \”Average Joe,\” he was craning his head back, too.

A New Relationship

It\’s been six months since I relocated for work, \”taking a break\” from the love of my life, Los Angeles.

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