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Good Fences

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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.

Final Score: Reality – 1; Desire – 0

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His velvet mouth, shaped perfectly to intertwine with hers, teases the space between them until its caress finds her.

Song of the Needle

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The Black Thing spread over the room, eating away his mother's face as well as the doctors and nurses who dashed in a frenzy around him until they too were swallowed in the black singing cloud.

A Safe Distance

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Poems, and Zebras

Employee Review

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Resting bitch face strikes again.

The Way Back

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The car has been parked there for slightly more than a day now, and nothing has occurred—there’s nothing “unusual,” nothing “amiss.” Except that it’s there, still, as he follows his boys to school.

A Museum of Numbers

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At street level there is a small arrow on which is printed “Museum of Numbers” that points up a long narrow staircase. There is a restaurant on the first floor. All the way up the stairs, the air is permeated with smell of fried foods

Take Out

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You're stupid drunk. And not feeling so good. You know you should stop doing this. But what else is there to do, especially since your brother went in? And now Roberto's gone to pick up his lady and left you alone, empty. Couldn't even drive you home. You don't…

Billionaire* Consternation - a play in three acts

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Is it you with that fucking gold and platinum yacht?!?

Life Apart

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Practice has perfected disengagement.

Darkroom Tech

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Entering that darkroom is like slipping through the barrel of a rifle.

Snap

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Sweet Tooth needed a little snack, so he ambled on down the hall to the kitchen. He figured to make one of his patented peanut butter, potato chip, tangerine, raisin, and banana sandwiches because those things just always hit the spot. Unfortunately, when he tugged the…

It Ain't Berklee College Of Music

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“You know who Neil Peart looks like?” Gram said, ignoring Aaron's outburst.

Low Clouds

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We lay in what we have made, minute fleshy bullets in the target we have made.

Valentine Day

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Valentine Dayso excitingit means he really loves herwhat will he bringshe waitshe comes home with a hang dogexpression on his faceher valentine was leftat the gambling table

Air On The G String

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If love could only by heat be bound

Leda and the Swan: Paul Gauguin

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Leda looks back over her shoulder at us as the swan grips her from behind while at the same time nipping at the nape of her neck. She's a freckled child and a little frightened. There's a dark smudge beneath her eye where the shadow runs. The swan

FLY AWAY

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Why is the sky grey he asked meI don't know, I saysudden flashes of light snowbloat the cloudssea gulls are squawkingexpect them to peck at my headI have nothing to feed them

Sex Tape

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When he suggested to her that they make a sex tape, because that’s what everyone was doing, she wasn’t really surprised. And there was a truly repugnant part of it that fit in with her desire for moral self-flagellation.

Too Fast to be Fat

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As it turns out, hypertravel is surprisingly slimming.

Tangenital

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I don’t personally know any models—let alone any supermodels—at this point in my life but some years back my father, who was working for the Woolite Corporation, was in charge of hiring models for them.

The Underwater Afterlife of Memory

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My fingers are shining in the underwater afterlife of memory searching for the nipple-sized mollusks searching for the solid nature of things left over from having lived a life at all That new rain smell, specifically I remember that,

Sex Coma

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If you were the ozone, I’d want to leave you gaping.

Bookends of a Life: II

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The clacking ventilator reminds me of ice cubes rattling in your highball...

The 11th Arrondissement

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I concluded that Parisian sexuality must be partially indebted to the cricket or grasshopper. The entrance to their flat was a wood door scarred by scriptures common to places frequented by people who have not yet made their mark on the world.

Biodegradability

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As a boy I fished under the Tappan Zee bridge which spans the Hudson River above New York City.

Salt

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

The poet. Pt. 3

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I think I remember now why people write poetry.

GONE

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The box thuds at your feet: mug, plant, wedding photo, the 25-year pen.

The Office

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But I still don't have my underwear in the right place.