The separation—the plan—had been a long time coming. After years of fighting and therapy and apologizing and, finally, silence, their marriage was about to die of exhaustion.

A wrinkled man lie atop an ivory-clad mattress, matched sheets covered his body, matched hair covered his head.

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.

This is a lady who never got a break.

You lose her. In the vortex of guttered water, her tangled hair entwines. Tornado-like. Her body spinning boisterously at its core. Her name: Izra—the wooden doll with black pebbled eyes. …

[He] practiced aromatherapy and licentiousness, in no particular order.

If love could only by heat be bound

Not long ago, Owen the Second showed her a skull. He kept it in a brown cardboard box in the top of the closet. "My first wife," he said, and sneered, his lip bunching up around a scar just under his nose.

Falling Water almost fell./ 12 million dollars later// it will splay itself a little longer

Last night aliens invaded our dishwasher.

Brazilian girls yammer with their book bags up against my leg.

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

On the television, a round woman sits amongst the mannequins. She wears a headband. She describes some awesome jewelry.

In a small, cozy diner lived a homemade meatloaf. The meatloaf spent its days lounging on a warm plate with some mashed potatoes and sweet corn. Together they watched television, argued about sports, and ate blueberry pie...

watch/ the second hand sweep