683 11 8
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12781111
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Vera Wang I saw you on Oprah today girl. Oh no no no.
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1666115
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“This is not turning out to be a wholesome project,” my brother hissed into the phone one night.
“Yo, Alan, it’s ELVIS. It’s American gothic, and the child needs to know the underbelly of the myth,” I hissed back.“Did you, or did you not, wear makeup to
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11131110
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Almost every weekend I'd ask Henry to go out with me and Marge, telling him we could double and, hey, maybe he could bring Ellen, who he dated a while back, who still asked about him. I'd suggest such things as going to a movie or out for a few drinks to reminisce about our…
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1485119
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Cherry was America's least favorite pie. Her mother made it every year for her father's birthday because "daddy doesn't like cake." America had to wash the bowls, the wooden spoon, the plates and finally the Pyrex dish. Her brother got to "contribute" by climbing the tree…
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1230117
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He flipped through a book of poems Ani’d given me. Nothing fell out so he tore it in two. I said his mama must notta read to this one and one of the older cops laughed and he hit me.
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1210115
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I didn't believe in hiding secrets or broken arrows. So I told my new girlfriend, who in earnest, tried shedding pounds like ugly memories, who glued herself to my shag carpet, watching exerise videos--that I didn't sleep alone. I tried to be as sensitive as possible,…
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267114
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I spent our years together
being someone you'd approve,
and all
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1050116
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Died is forever. Passed away/
Is ambiguous. Dead isn’t/
polite.
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2021118
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Lisa Duncan's mom was puffy, and you could always see part of her breasts.
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1603117
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He was her summer fling, the first cock to crow when the sun rose over her tequila smile.
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12601110
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It was just lying there by the side of the road next to a mailbox, pockets turned out, weeds kinda rolled flat around it. I counted three nickels, a dime, and a cigar butt too. I could sure use the change for gum, but I didn't want to get near it. It looked dead,…
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1241113
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Ego bereft of consistency Betrays a heart hungering to toll. Unable to trust its will Or harbor imaginary gods, It gains a hold melding into a role whose proven viability Can give convincing cover To buy time to fabricate An identity that feels unique, Yet…
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14301111
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It’s like faith. My battle buddy is out there, I know it, but I can’t see him, nor can I hear him. I just know he’s there, trusting he’ll do what he’s supposed to do, and he’s trusting in me.
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1107118
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There are stories I will not tell, stories I shudder / to remember. You'll forgive me for withholding them from you. / You may, of course, not tell me everything about yourself either
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1678114
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My name is Wanda McClure and I lived in the foothills of Eastern Kentucky. A small town miles off the interchange, and mostly in the middle of nowhere. I lived in a trailer. I was 52 years old.
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223119
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1121116
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1117116
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Everything is bound to change like / a damsel to the tracks.
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1317118
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Me and Dale chuck rocks at it.
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13551110
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Some of them are notorious tweakers. Nobody epitomizes the cowboy-outlaw biker more than the ironworkers, who are wired on Black Beauties they sell on breaks.
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1098116
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I suppose it was inevitable, This crashing of souls, This recognition of possibility to create. If we were younger, We would make a baby, The ultimate act of faith. Now it has to be something else, Nothing to force a track with night feedings, …
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770119
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I kept my seat. Passengers packed in the aisle weren't moving and until they were, neither was I.
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1312113
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He had a country house, she said, but it was near the city. She said the house was about as old as he was and she loved it— from the wood-framed windows to the heavy wood doors... to the garden on the side of the house
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1504119
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The taste of / what is denied us is always sweet
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1294116
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The days cut off by damp chill with every thought a different variety of protection.
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1348119
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We'll Thelma-and-Louise it, I urged, Bonnie-and-Clyde it, she bettered, Sundance-and-Butch it, I proffered but she was already leaning in for a kiss.
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929117
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--small chin, timid mouth, frail nose, weak narrow-set eyes--
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1471118
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The wind has no voice
and yet we listen,
perhaps imagining the ramblings
of a mad man
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1070119
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When Chuck dies, I’ll throw/
a party and dance, a little drunk,/
across what I’ll pretend/
is the old shit’s grave.
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