1869 8 3
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"My boy Jake fell in with a bad crowd when he went to college," Coffelt says, shaking his head. "A bunch of accounting majors."
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186951
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Class (appears in my book Breaking it Down; no journal publication) When your neighbor James Frehley cusses you out for hanging a block and tackle from the silver maple in your front lawn, begin to pull the engine from your Galaxie anyway, smile and nod…
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18691312
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They confess love for Karaoke and metal rock. They have purchased expensive Stratocasters and Zildjians.
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18691711
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When he woke he carried the body of a cat instead of a man. Next to him his cat dreamed it had a human body.
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18692319
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Alice writes three different versions of the letter. The last one is the most tempered, the most like her, but still it is such an unlike-her thing to do. The couple who lives above her has been disrupting her sleep nearly every night for the past three weeks. The woman's…
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186900
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This is Chapter 2 of my serialzied novel Girma Dali. The title character reflects upon his youth and the young boy, Benga, who mentored him into adolescence.
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186900
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Tombstones are only granite symbols of a man’s life, Gus thought as he changed lanes. Children, they were the ultimate epitaph.
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1869215
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You got a lot of people, out there
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186830
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186800
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“Yeah, she's a real slut,” many contestants' mothers say.
“If he could only keep it in his pants, he'd probably be able to stay in the country,” others say about their sons
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186841
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What I need to secure from you now are two swears on this copy of Camp Bylaws for the Hearty and True that you won’t let my misinformed intrusion dampen your beginnings.
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186853
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Now, gazing into Greg’s expectant eyes, the only Chinese word Deepti could summon was kuei. Ghost. Before that summer, her mother flipped through the pages of Maxine Hong Kingston’s memoir every day, as if she could glean magic from the touch of her finge
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186843
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I cannot read one more award winning novel by a female Asian author about the atrocities committed against their childhood, she thought. Then she sat down with her trusty yellow pad and Papermate fineline to write the next lyrical story of a female Asian writer and the…
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1868148
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The rain is no terrible epitaph
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18681816
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captured by his lens and plates/
before humidity and hydrocarbons/
smudge the crisp clean lines
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1868128
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In the office supply store on Union, Jeremy, the stock boy, shelves tubs of rubber bands. Tubs with an easy-access pop-top and a see-through container. If Hendy saw these tubs, she would think these particular rubber bands resembled anorexic gummy-worms,
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186854
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Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar
the sweet crust that decorates our bright enameled pots.
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186874
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There was a time when she could quell the loathing that Fred inspired in her. She could force it down. Back then, for instance, when they’d been in counseling, the ball of hatred had only been a little, overripe orange - squishy and occasionally mushed
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186832
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Rob thought he might even make it. He'd stopped off south of Seattle, in Kent, and filled up the tank and went back in the can and topped off again. He got back on the road, to all appearances blase, blase. The montages were muted, at least for…
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18681613
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If this was the day when the bribes of whiskey and US dollars would fail to work. If on this day a black bag, smelling of shit and fear, would be pulled over his head – the bloodied roots of a knocked out tooth tickling his neck.
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18671413
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186786
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Every lunch time the numerous small jukeboxes that are distributed about the dining area fill the air with webs of King Curtis and Benny Goodman.
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186700
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“Where are you going?” asked the young man. Teary-eyed and beaten, he gently put his hands on the shoulders of Snow-child, her back turned from him. “Home,” Snow-child said. “I'm going back to Norway.” …
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186721
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time. Night after night he's up, restless. What if she knew his plans? If only he'd bypass his miscalculations and slip through
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186742
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We've worked silence over /
Like pros, our best work together.
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18671918
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We were in the car more than anywhere else. A few days driving, then a few days to get back home.
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186741
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My father is remarkably clever. That is, for a rundown, henpecked fisherman. He has caught me again. He has me slung over his back in a rickety lobster trap and I can hear him huffing and the water in him sloshing and though I can't see his face, I imagine it is ruddied…
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18671111
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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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186711
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I rummage around to see which of our many countertop appliances might do the trick. Yogurt maker? No, I need something with more muscle.
The Cuisinart--just the thing! I pick through the detachable blades—where’s the isotope shredder?
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18663616
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A forgotten sprinkler is going in a neglected flower garden, water overflowing the bent wood borders and flooding the ground on either side.
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