A horizon shrinks a burden until it’s a seagull getting fat off vinegar fries. I’m in love with the way your mouth moves when you aren’t talking. When it fills with salt.

Lu peeked at his cards again. They were still jacks, and they still looked mighty nice.

Once, when he had been married for a year, she sent him a card which said, "If you have seen a cat smoke a pipe, you have got it made." There was an illustration of a big, black panther, standing up on its hind legs, smoking what looked like a big tub of

Hipster-neutral dressed simulacra-person offers a glance and a wave, sudden as a ping-pong serve, designed to crowd your space and "pal" you but I dodge it — I'm practiced at this.

I imagined the crystals in my mouth. Salt flowers blooming on my tongue.

I built the fence myself, strong and high and aesthetically pleasing. It was high enough to provide privacy on both sides, but from my bedroom balcony I could see everything. More than I wanted to see.

There's this sepia-toned photograph, which my mother gave me, of my brother and me when we were still both youngsters. In the picture my brother's dressed in a skimpy checked suit whose sleeves were already too short for him — on its way to becoming my

Lucy looked up, smiled and said mine had a head that looked like a mushroom. I suppose she was right. We were sitting on the floor drawing naked bodies for our anatomy lesson and teasing each other about our lack of drawing talent. We were new friends, having met when…

We got our holes in our hearts bundled onto soft wrapping cloth just like the gentleman on TV said; with smiles we set out towards our matching end of the same old stories. That's just the way…

I knew nothing about the letter at first. When I came in that morning and smiled and said good morning, it was a genuine smile and a heartfelt good morning. But the letter, which had arrived the previous afternoon, was already doing its corrosive work of

We crept to the edge of the cliff and stared down at Lake Travis. In this alcove, out of the churn of the speedboats and pleasure craft, the water shimmered, impossibly blue. “Didn’t you used to jump off here back when you were getting high?” Ryan said

Do I feel good about any of that? Not really. But I seem to find myself asking over and over again, why should I care? That's something that's never happened before. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I kind of liked it.

I remember thinking the seasons are arriving later every year, as if the world has been slowed by the weight of graves.

San Bruno avenue, six shops in eight blocks. Those Vietnamese ladies thrive on the pedicure trade.

Both his parents saved their pent up Puritan pasts to fill his ears with brimstone clichés. "Idle time is the devil's playground", he would tell me, scrunching up his face, stuffing it full of meat lovers pizza.