She burst Into the glass shop

With the morning comes the repetition...

War came home tonight. We weep and hug, while he stares over our shoulders, like the statue we'll make of him. We pour a drink for his shaky hands, wheel him past his friends the dead, and lie to each other about other, far off places as if we knew.

My small kitchen has barely enough room to turn around in, yet I had the feeling I was being watched. When I experience it again, just seconds later, I realize it was eyes watching, actual eyes, not a camera or machine.

and i'm almost out of cigarettes, and fireworks and sorority girls scream from down the street.

You're on the Ferris wheel, and the wind is blowing just a little bit, and the sky is invisible behind a wash of white clouds, and your little yellow box tips when you look down, down to the fairway swinging. In the boxes below grandmothers are shrieking …

Suds, like gossamer bandages at her wrists, concealed the turbulence below but could not relieve it.

I've heard of sucessful marriages where there's very little sex. My heart aches for that kind of love.

A sturdy and goatish original by know-nothing punks from the sticks. Who cares if we were puny and smelled like fresh milk? For a few years we played and rocked, even turned the Appalachian soundscape a little brown at the edges. At least at first. Mainly

When she was nineteen, she began to brew a baby in her belly. She named it, and sang to it, and organized the leftover hand-me-downs that hadn't been worn ragged through by the first seven sets of recipients.

But the boy next door is worse than a dweeb; he's a prima donna and a bully and a little shit to boot. The divorce will only make him more.

It all started with a middle finger. This is where the chain of events began in Benjamin's mind as his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood and the crunch of broken glass rolled against his teeth. The pickup followed much too closely, but Benjamin was too…

“Can I feel it?” he reached his hands out immediately, expecting I’d say yes. I am the type to always say yes, right? “Sure.” I confirmed, swallowing back my fear of his touch. He didn’t seem himself, like this. I led his hands to my hips and let them

Satchmo sings a love song over the sound system. People read books, tap keyboards, drink coffee, eat cake. In Barnes & Noble—more a coffee shop these days than a bookstore—I am thinking about my dad and his stomach cancer.The terror he…

Often I eat lunch at the hospital. The cafeteria may be the best place to eat in town.