1816 1 1
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I hear the car door slam. Steve, about to duck daddy-duty: Just gonna take a run to the Quickway. "Rudy," I say, "go get in the car. Tell Papo I said Wait."
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1816 10 4
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Who puts Vaseline
on the forefinger
of Lenin?
I want to know
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1816 4 1
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"What's that smell?" Osama glares at me from the front seat of the Trans Am.
"What smell?" I say.
"You smell like a diaper. Are you wearing a diaper?" Osama and Peach both laugh at me.
"No... maybe, its my Baby Soft perfume. Is it too strong?"
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1815 10 6
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—Pretty tulips, said the woman.
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1815 11 6
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It is certain. The roofs are hats for the houses because you wear a hat in the rain or the snow or even and sometimes especially the sun. The houses are curious. They keep their hats on at night. The downspouts for run-off water are strands of hair such as…
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1815 14 3
|
You have a house (plural, as in Spain)
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1815 11 10
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Slip me in Between the cracks in your schedule Between the sheets of your bed Between your memories and your fears Between your eyes and the moon where I'll twinkle at you Slip me in somewhere, I won't disturb you Won't make you want to push me away Let…
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1815 4 1
|
Leo, leo, leo, leo, the word itself imprinted on my brain, carved with a pearl handled blade into my cerebral cortex, into the medulla, burrowed deep into my dreams, I miss your kissing.
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1815 12 10
|
Christ walks the streets of Venice,/has long since become a regular . . .
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1814 6 1
|
Bearing the smell of paper on her fingertips. Ink in her hair.
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1814 8 5
|
For the next two hours, Ed goes nonchalantly about his business, buck naked the whole time. He putters around the house, writes e mails, waters plants, vacuums the rug and sweeps the porch. I pretend to ignore his nudity
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1814 1 0
|
I’ve been here before.
it wasn’t you though—
it was her before you,
and then she before her …
before you.
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1814 10 3
|
“I was looking for the review of the Alvin Ailey dance company when I noticed something in the sports pages,” says the 300-pound center. “All of a sudden it hit me–I should have been playing football."
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1814 0 0
|
The ice in Mum’s drink clinked as she rolled the glass across her forehead. “Ith that a gay thing or ith that a vampire thing? ’Coth I’m finding thith all a bit confuthing.”
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1814 19 13
|
perjured like a fickle impulse
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1814 4 3
|
She brought the ends of her fingers to her mouth and moistened them in her warm saliva. The whorls of her prints glistened in the harsh light of the room, but it wasn't her own outlines she was interested in raising. His hand lay outstretched in his…
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1814 3 2
|
Out here in nearly nowhere I met this man. About him I know something something, and no one can tell me otherwise.
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1814 12 6
|
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1814 6 3
|
I can tell you all about rock bottom.
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1814 7 6
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This no man's island I'm perched high above isn't always so beautiful to the casual beholder of newly printed maps. Oh don't go and get your clouds all wrong. Puffed or thin, everything I say I believe in is a real feeling, until the music dies…
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1813 7 4
|
Already they’re taking away my books,
supplanting them with Kindles and Nooks.
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1813 10 7
|
god bless my shapeless head. we are good at becoming older. i feel incredibly negative all the time.
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1813 8 7
|
Before he was Francesco Martinelli
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1813 17 10
|
Even if your heart is as large as a small car, your tongue as heavy as two grown men—even then—you will have to carry it with you wherever you go.
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1812 1 2
|
My parents were married for forty five years. “A lifetime,” is how the rabbi at my mother's funeral describes it. The man says it with such a tone of familiarity, of genuine sadness, that one might think he has known and adored my parents all their lives. But…
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1812 2 3
|
“How scared?” Mikey said, not wanting to find out, and already looking pretty nervous.
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1812 12 6
|
She bought her first gerbil at the age of nine. She wondered if he would die from endless logrolling. When he died from natural causes, she refused to bury him and kept a distance from the first boy who kissed her--Thomas J. Hobbit. The next year a twister swept…
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1812 4 2
|
Had I scoured all five boroughs of New York I couldn’t have found a more perfect imperfect object for my affections. Morgan was crazy as a loon, with the common sense of a mackerel and the emotional stability of a canary. But believing love could conquer
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1812 0 0
|
From the moment they had decided to come until the present, each seated guest had been parading one faceless male possibility after another through her curious mind. Would he be strong? Handsome? Ugly? Crippled? The possibilities were endless...
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1812 17 7
|
After not going out for weeks, I went to a bar and met an electrical engineer, a motorcycle racer who raced in the Black Hills, a Renaissance man, in a relationship with a young married woman, and I told him about the toad.
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