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You, Cliché

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You might as well be the man on the moon. Once touching your face was quotidian. When I tallied each day's pleasures, you, in this room or that, counted too much for me, I think. I stopped record keeping. I'm …

Deep June Pool

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I may be the shadow that I am, but I only ever loved you.

cloth

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i want out

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 15

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Steve Bancroft’s future wife showed up at his door that same night, slamming her hand loudly against the door and shouting for him. “Steve, Steve, wake up. Damn it, come on. You forgot to pick me up at the airport. Who are you in there with? I said wa

FAMILY VALUES

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that is a fair description of our family if I add the disclaimer that the girls are whores and we don’t have much in common.

ANYTHING FOR JOHNNY

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After nine months, I was granted early parole...

evening cigarette

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It's short.

SEVEN DEGREES LESS THAN ZERO

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One night the woman went down in the basement, grabbed an electric drill, and let the voices out in eight places.

Ya Sure You Betcha (A Syttende Mai Challenge)

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Nora never dated Scandinavians.

Bogart Generations

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Great Uncle did stunts in silents and shot a man in a cowboy one-reeler, then vanished to the hills like Roy Earle in High Sierra.

The Dog

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They stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change so they could cross the highway.

I will be your girlfriend, Sam Pink

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I don't really know, though. I've been locked in a beer cave for the last ten years of my life. I was just let out by some frat boys who were looking for Natty Light.

Pot-shots- an Octet for the New Year

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Maybe all quarterbacks are shitwads.

Maître d’

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Before the days of “customer experience,” Eddie figured out whatever information he could about his clients. He asked them for business cards, recorded their phone numbers from the reservation book, snapped photos of them in his mind…

Subj: re: doing time ...

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The jail, where I stayed for 48 hours, gave me enough information to write a 180-page book, something I resisted setting out upon due to the insult of it.

The Days of The Olde Burying Yard

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“Phennias Jessup is his name. That’s his death’s head scroll, an hourglass, bats, spirals and angel’s wings on either side of the top part of the stone. "

Sunday Cookout

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She thrust her proboscis through seven layers of dermis and began to suck, filling her belly with his Welbutrin and Xanax infused blood.

Redeye Rabbit

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I knew it was just a matter of time...

Bonne Fire

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And the voodoo pins pinged as, folding and imploding, she was reduced to a petro-chemical puddle.

Our 2015 Holiday Letter…Sort Of

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“Why do I have to sign these cards? You haven't written your dreaded holiday letter yet.” “I told you not to complain or you'd be the one writing it. And addressing the envelopes. Then you can stamp them and take them to the Post Office!” …

Cool Gray Redemption

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I’ve been such a fool, so reckless and untrue.

soft soap

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you were very very small, you were everso small, you were like – the tiniest creature, hopping about on one leg

Myra's Lesson

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There’s no training course available for kids in love. You can watch your parents, you can watch other kids, but for the most part it’s all trial and error, and I'm still pretty shaky at almost all of it.

Cats

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My wife and I are cat people. Indeed, that's how we met. We met at a wake.

The Little Things

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Incredibly he began to picture in his mind a scene not related at all to his frenzied search but of a huge plate of apple pie a la mode with the vanilla ice cream melting in streams like cool lava down the side of the pie and off of the plate.

Here Comes the Sun

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I watch my brother carry her into the hospital, and I love him with parts of myself I didn’t know were capable of love. I love my brother with the space behind my eyes, the skin between my fingers, the ends of my hair, the crease in my neck. I love him wi

Migrant Workers

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Emma pushes through the door of the corner market, aiming briskly for her car, keys in one hand, grocery bag in the other, shoulder bag slung. Best not to make eye contact with the loitering boozers and bikers from the bar next door. Double take. Can't…

A Question of Choice

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The contrast can be summed up in a sip.

A Few Introductory Words

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And without further ado, The Author.

Spinning Walt Whitman

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In San Francisco, there rides at night a phantom streetcar whose driver is none other than Walt Whitman . . .