1874 2 1
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Naomi saw an ad in one of those slick circulars that came in the mail. ' Wigs by Paula."
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187431
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It's Granny hauling her crooked soul into heaven. Guess who I stole that image from?
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187400
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an ominous figure of fear and grace a ball moves back and forth
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187455
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Alessandro was no ordinary demon (what demon is?), insofar as he had Constable Pulce's number. In demonly fashion he had Pulce's number in a way Pulce himself did not.
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187497
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the array of regularly spaced wavering human forms floating upright seems to extend endlessly in all directions.
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187353
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Hunger only makes people hungry, but bad hair can ruin your whole day.
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187386
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Here I am in the city where we walked side by side, you had driven a great distance and lost your way somewhere where exits left the highway from both directions and unpredictably.
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187363
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In his fridge he had one piece of meat. He hadn’t been expecting me. I cooked it for him and watched him eat.
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18731110
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When her husband left she was not yet thirty
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187332
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Hair today...gone tomorrow
The sun beats down
on my balding crown.
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187333
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“What is the sickness that you have?” Colin behind the glass wondered.
“Too much world,” said Anise Fish.
“We have that in common.”
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187300
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From across the crowded bar, past the be-suited lobbyists and in between the plates of fried calamari and glasses of cabernet being hustled to and fro by the Salvadoran waiters, Travis could see that John had changed. Not much, but enough to be noticeable. A little grey…
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1873135
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That led to the first aid box on the bed at 3 in the morning, but what about those veggies?
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187332
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A true Rowdies fan begins every conversation about the band with a legend. She would be impressed if he knew the story.
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18731110
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Some of them are notorious tweakers. Nobody epitomizes the cowboy-outlaw biker more than the ironworkers, who are wired on Black Beauties they sell on breaks.
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187276
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Residual flashbacks; just tiny bright lightning bolts that flash in front of my eyes, just like standing watching a soaring bonfire on a cold and frosty November night, pinprick sparks flying up into the endless darkness of the night.
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187243
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take back all the falderal
and friggin' fiddle dee dee
take back the mad murmuring
of ten minutes ago
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187221
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I remember ...all the teenagers offered no-longer favored CDs, last year's cell phones, third-place trophies, team jerseys, played-out videogame cartridges, and candy-colored miniature stuffed animals...
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1872123
|
I'm explicating Emily Dickinson when the alarm starts: three long, two short. Lockdown mode. Only there was nothing in the staff bulletin about a drill. So I tell the students to get down on the floor, away from the window. I open the classroom door and lock it from…
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187273
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Susie watched the record, her mouth agape just slightly, the spinning vinyl unveiling the powerful sound of a voice she'd wanted to hear her whole life.
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18721512
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She wears three or four tattered sweaters on cool days. She pushes a basket borrowed from a grocery store. There is a plastic lawn bag in the basket with God knows what inside.
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187221
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"Look, Ted, I'm on a timer. It's really hell here, you can't imagine. And I have a chance to get paroled early, if you do me a solid."
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18721513
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We lived on the edge of a tiny Iowa town, and picked corn fields were steps away.
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187201
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“Don’t you wish it always ended that way? The right people fall in love? Romance leads to marriage? God, that was a great movie.”
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187234
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Sunday, Nolan and I drop by the ice rink on 10th and Alma to watch the amateur hockey leagues battle it out in an unspoken yet assumed class war: the buff, unemployed rink bums who can grind ice, cross-check, and stick handle like the pros, versus the dou
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187133
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Things are a little out of hand. Information fills room after room after room. I have no bloody idea where I am. I have your photo, but the navigational coordinates are difficult to interpret. Where the hell are you, anyway? I don't like mazes — too much like…
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187166
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Ok, so I’m sitting here trying to write through a frigging cold. And I. . .Oops, . . . . . . wait a sec!. . . I’m stopped, astounded, stunned between coughing my left lung clear over my keyboard and watching it flopping on the back of my desk. . .
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187100
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"Did I have a choice? Could I just open my eyes, did I have to ‘see’ as he was telling me now I could? I decided to go for it. What did I have to lose? This was all a dream, too much driving to get here, too much reunion, too much food, too much beer. Or
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187100
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There was a whole group of us Young Turk poets who hung out at the Savoy Tivoli in North Beach. Most of them drove cabs, (whereas I was now working in a damned gas station for Angel, my publisher’s man, who got me a job there.) They would double-park thei
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1871148
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When Kat returned home from The East Street Wars, she learned that her epileptic lover, White Dog, died from madness
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