I interviewed Monica Byrne about The Girl in the Road

9780804138840_custom-2db3dd196e9404af7d78ed7129bbccff56252bf3-s1200-c15Way back in January, era of cold snowy misery, I read The Girl in the Road by Monica Byrne, and it blew me away. You may remember me flailing about it here. Well, it seems I’m getting kinda good at this being-a-working-writer thing, this leaning-in, pitching-like-a-shark thing, because when I learned that one of my friends, Laura, actually grew up in the same town, instead of feeling awed and shying away, I said “Hey! I’d love to interview her.”

And, readers, I did.

Continue reading I interviewed Monica Byrne about The Girl in the Road


I dreamt of violence
again last night. Trapped inside
an auditorium

of milling, moaning
masses. We were all sick. Doors
locked; men in masks yelled,

capered with guns, laughed
and waved machetes. We coughed
and cried. Quarantined.

The president spoke —
he tried to speak. A coworker,
who is as big as

a brother to me, held
his hand over my eyes;
and the president

died. We were driven
along roads of white sand, palm
trees, an ocean so blue —

so blinding. We were
kids in a yellow bus, sent
to the sea to drown.

I woke, bewildered,
trembling. My dog, small and warm,