Julian, CA by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella

Julian, CA by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella

On the drive up to Julian we decided to smoke poorly rolled joints so that the town’s pies would taste better. “If that’s even possible,” you said exhaling smoke. The car windows sweated while we passed it back and forth. “It looks like a canoe,” I said, meaning the joint. You nodded while staring out the front window.

Your beard looked crinkly and I reached out to touch it to see if it’d crunch. You pressed my hand against your face.

When we got to Julian we had mussed hair and squinty eyes. We followed signs directing us to berries, apples, and cherries.

Once we got the white box back into the car I cut the red and white string with my incisors.

Cherry Pie for Pi Day 2015 courtesy Flickr user Bill Ward

Cherry Pie for Pi Day 2015 courtesy Flickr user Bill Ward

Stoned and elated we ate the pie with our hands. In silence we smiled through fistfuls of cherry crumble, mouths in mechanical motion. Red dyed our hands and lips while our nails scraped the bottom of the metal tin.

Your mouth full you said, “I love you so fucking much it’s freaking me out,” and pastry crust decorated your chin.

“Me or the pie?” You shrugged, and we laughed, and the syrupy treacle sweetness poured down my throat.

 

bio_cannarella Jane-Rebecca Cannarella is an editor at HOOT Review (www.hootreview.com) who plays the piano poorly and chronicles the many ways she embarrasses herself at the website: www.youlifeisnotsogreat.com (misspelling intentional). She occasionally drinks wine out of a mug with a smug poodle on it, and is a sometime contributing writer for SSG Music (www.ssgmusic.com). She, of course, likes cats.