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O Caftan! My Caftan!

Peyton PriceO Caftan! My Caftan!

My fearful search is done.

I pawed through every discount rack,

the prize I sought is won.

I hate my rear, my belly's queer,

my thighs are just revolting,

while follow eyes across the beach,

string bikinis baring.

O my heart! Ignore those tarts

in flowing yards of zen.

What underneath my caftan lies

they'll never see again.

- Peyton Price, with apologies to Walt Whitman and everyone, really.

Peyton Price is the author of Suburban Haiku: Poetic Dispatches From Behind the Picket Fence. You can find her tripping over her caftan at suburbanhaiku.com.

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Reclaiming full-price love

I found him: the mysterious man who was supposed to seduce me, the aspiring novelist, while on a weekend hiatus from my husband and two kids. He was, of all places, in Nordstrom Rack. This man was tall, freakishly tall. His dark, curly hair and broad shoulders soared above the sea of men's dress trousers. I was across the store in the lingerie department, tangled amongst discounted lace. Mr. Handsome wore an olive green linen shirt with pockets and tortoise shell buttons that teased their ...
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The interrupted Target breakdown

"Excuse me; may I take care of that for you?" She leaned in closer, her face uncomfortably close to mine. I was so stunned, frustrated and embarrassed I could not find the words to accept her offer. I stood there looking back into her eyes for a moment. She searched my face with so much compassion. After what seemed like one hell of a day, I just stood there speechless. It all started with the morning phone call that I couldn't quite take. This particular friend and I don't get to see eac ...
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