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The little Lady and I drove down to New Orleans to take in the Mardi Gras festivities we’d read so much about.
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The service was a disaster. The Protestants bobbed up and down. They didn't know when to stand, when to sit. I
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A lifeboat came by in the night,
And I finally saw we were sinking.
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He stays a couple of yards behind me as we slog uphill. I try to diffuse the tension with a coy toss of head, slip on wet leaves. My ankle rolls and I splat noisily down. From my new angle his beard looks less stylish—bristles straggle all up his neck. He maintains…
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rheumy eyes wink, gnarled hands pantomime
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Occupy Wall Street protestors in Boston complained that homeless people had taken coats, blankets and food donated to the fight against income inequality. “They don’t bring anything to the table,” said a spokesman at the information tent.
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The man who makes the noose
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my stomach is empty, but it is my eyes that are hungry
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I learned He was a Schmuck when, on/
the mountaintop, with Abraham,/
I waited on His call: one Isaac, neat.
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We lived in a Holiday Inn trying not to be depressed that life had turned out to be so much like Eastenders, trying not to acknowledge that the thrill we’d got out of each other was the thrill of giving in to the wrong thing. We had more sex than ever b
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Let’s talk about Chattanooga, the cloud / mountains, the monastery bench, drunk / at sunset
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Go ahead, boy, pout like a fool.
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I'm somewhere on I-10 in Mississippi, barreling westbound at 80 miles an hour through a rainstorm on a late Wednesday afternoon. The last road sign I remember was for Beauvoir, some Confederate general's…
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Instead, we found his red-inked list of boys who would never be saved,
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Can we survive our Y chromosome?
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... honestly, the dishes were just tired. Too few in number and washed too often, they dreamed of an escape -- any escape, really -- from the endless cycle of hot water and being racked together to dry ...
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This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
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one season slips into another
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He'd tend the door himself in high lace up boots, orange rhinestone hot pants, a tight black t-shirt, and black boa with orange swirl.
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The javelin was cancelled after the unfortunate incident with Mrs Parker last year, but no one could have predicted this year’s sack race tragedy.
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April spit its greeting, toe to head.
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But by day the birds / of prey were in control.
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Forty years later he was still her Romeo, she his Juliet.
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I'm available most weekends.
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I'm complex. You're complex. We're all complex.Who gives a shit? Man's fallen and he can't get up.I consulted Jacques the Atheist for advice: he toldme to beat it. "But I lack the proper stigma!" I cried.Once a month, I volunteer at the dressage parlor.On Tuesdays, I…
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Eve is eating a plum. The plum is cold and how it got cold is sort of a mystery, but there are mysteries everywhere and the cold juice on her face doesn't really incline her to worry much about mysteries.
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"Life's Little Instruction Book." There are some words of wisdom here that I plan to ignore.
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And here you are. Before your time. Behind the glass.
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I see my siblings once a year when we all show up, as if required by law, to eat Thanksgiving dinner. It is apparent with every bite how much they hate each other.
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The Fuddy-Duddy Writer does not do wit.
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