1775 14 9
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In the late 60’s, I lived on West 71st street in Manhattan and borrowed books from a store.
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I had a dream. "And it was a long dream, as dreams go. . ."
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Do you spend most of your time on Facebook, or all of your time on Facebook?
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“No names,” she said. “I am the mysterious woman, and you are the handsome stranger.”
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Fergus Winston, a former accountant from New York, finds himself mixed up in the middle of a trafficking operation in small town Iowa.
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He laughed – pictures traveled across his mind of bodies and mouths and the sex and the liquor, he could taste the flesh and the alcohol right then, strong, immediate.
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"What the hell does profligate mean?!" He shouted.
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was washing her hands and lookingin the mirror and hoping tosee someone who could tell herthe way home again. She wasn'tsure why she should want to go there except maybe to findthe missing piece that had alwayseluded her. The lonely genius puton her clothes but the…
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Before the bills, before the fighting, before the need to blame something, there was a moment blown empty in the span of one doctor’s breath, a moment where bar nights and weekend benders had no meaning, a moment where the future was as blank as the bac
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I won't fail at this like trying to fix a leaking sink without mud grease or washers tinier than Cheerios.
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It is almost as if there isn’t a wedge of wood between us – I can feel him inches away from me. I can’t control the sigh or the tears that escape my body.
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The blue whale in the bathtub weighed one hundred tons and wore a grin like the Cheshire cat on steroids. Her smile stretched from wall to wall. Her blowhole scraped the ceiling. Sam never learned how she crammed her tail down into the drainpipe,…
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How old is he anyway? 35? Maybe 40? Old—but in a good and sophisticated way. Everyone says he’s good-natured and generous, Mr. John-just-like-a-movie-star-Wagner.
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"Dude!" James smacked Peter's head. "Don't be a jerk. Did you get a look at her or not?"
Peter said, "I didn't really see her face. Is she hot? Do you wanna kiss her face?"
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As American as hotdogs and apple pie...
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You say boxer briefs, I say pillbox hats
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it’s women i’ve loved/
or men i owe money
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The wind is wet today I can't tell you where sky meets sea only that it matters I can't explain why. I've triedCan't see the horizonbut I know that we have drawn itfingers tracing far pastthe edge of blind infinitywhere we sang stars to sleepand pinned our…
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"So" he started, which troubled me enough to turn back around and make such focused eye contact that I did not even notice his glass was again full, "you wanted to talk?"
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He never bothered converting the tip money he pocketed at the Imperial Street 24 hour car wash as his world was replete with 25 cent transactions, making quarters the perfect coin for his realm.
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Sun strikingGolden snow glistens Across empty fieldsLong winter shadowsTrees like fingers The morning in their grasp
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He arrives at the appointed hour, driving up the dusty road in his '68 Ford truck. On the side is stenciled “Sampson's Farrier Service.” He parks in front of the barn. Patience watches from the front porch, where she has just set down a…
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When the Borgias ruled Italy they had murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love and 500 years of democracy, and produced the cuckoo clock.
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we wipe the blood of our progress
from our hands.
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Behind the wainscoting, the mice scratch, struggling to keep warm.
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Today's girls all look the same. Angie isn't even sure if one leaves and a new one enters. They blend together like paper-dolls, clinging to one another, connected, braided. This morning, while one of them lies with her legs in a V, the alarm goes off
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He was arrested for a horrible crime. It took more than three weeks to identify the body. The newspapers were vague so as not to terrify anyone. He hung his head low as he pled guilty.
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Down in the basement, as far away from the Arizona sun As we could get, we were led by a man that loved the word Motherfucker. He said this was where we belonged. In the basement. He told us science fiction had rules: 1. Don't read anything…
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Perhaps a blue person is more alive underneath than a red. Red is eye-catching and flashy, but blue is substantial, secretive. Of course, blood is red, and there’s nothing more substantial than blood, but we’re on blue at the moment, and the thought
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