1767 7 4
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You're a good dog, she whispered to him, a good brave dog. Her face was tight with soap.
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176732
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fate is an illusion we use to ease the terror of our mortality
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176721
|
For the briefest moment, she was part of the sky. She hung there. Frozen. Suspended. Arms outstretched. She thought maybe she could take off flying, if she strained against gravity hard enough. She would soar into the pale blue until she reached the clouds. They …
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176721
|
Judith was a bed wetter. Judith was a first-year college student and she was embarrassed that she wet the bed.
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176721
|
Linus had it right with the security blanket he held like a beloved pet swan. Geneva had it all wrong with a pastel-colored music box, painted with impressionist-styled daisies and tied up in gold-ribbed pink bow. But it had come from her grandmother. Her
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176762
|
Mark dressed the velvet red Stetson,
too big for his head,
like a dandy.
A six year old savior
with fringe on his pockets
flapping as he, the ‘Judas horse’
led me ’round back
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1767117
|
... he led what might be called a quiet life
|
1767149
|
I crave the confines of the convent
|
176732
|
We love the sparkling, speckless, spotless, spic-n-span, sanitary.
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176623
|
My husband waits for him to hurt himself.
The boy drinks red wine between movements,
Staring hypnotically at the back
Of a girl’s head.
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176684
|
The house had to be clean - I mean thorough-clean - when he got home from the pit for his tea, or he’d throw his plate at the wall and the gravy would run down onto the carpet. There was always gravy.
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176600
|
“We’re starting to get into weather control,” Mark said.
“Can you really do that?” Rachel asked, trying to sound supportive and not skeptical.
“There are people out on the west coast in Seattle, who’ve been experimenting with it,” Mark said.
“Bec
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176600
|
“We all come out from Gogol's 'Overcoat'," said Dostoevsky. Well, sometimes, I think otherwise.
|
176641
|
Each drip off the corrugated plastic sheeting made a tinny sound that he could hear from deep within the damp sleeping bag and layers of blankets where he was trying to sleep.
|
17661212
|
Your mother is a great and dying bird. Once, she tended her grand feathered nest. Once, she preened.
|
1766167
|
|
176654
|
On the television, a round woman sits amongst the mannequins. She wears a headband. She describes some awesome jewelry.
|
176633
|
I remember mad strong words out of a teenager, fresh from the shower without a blouse: First! He will be my age, period! He will be the first to walk me to my room as my fear crashes to earth, final, considered.
And I will be the first to milk the w
|
176698
|
|
176610
|
Sophie hoped that Ryan would just stay in the bathroom and never come out. Her stomach turned just thinking about him, but wealthy nerds were easier to work than wealthy regular guys. No self-esteem, no experience with women…no problem.
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176631
|
The man next to me on the Shinkansen from Tokyo to Kyoto makes me think of the smokers I’ve kissed.
|
176500
|
[CAUTION: THIS CAN CONTAINS THE CAFFEINE EQUIVALENT OF THREE CUPS OF COFFEE. PEOPLE WHO ARE ELDERLY, PREGNANT, OR SENSITIVE TO CAFFEINE SHOULD NOT CONSUME THIS BEVERAGE!]
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176563
|
Ellen decided to soft-pedal the one month to live thing. Really, there was barely time for the patient to read Ellen's brochure.
|
176545
|
The summer when I was six and my sister Audrey was eight, she'd walk around our house pretending to be in a trance, fingers strategically hovering over my mother's vases and lamps, leaving smudges behind on my father's heavy oak desk and rocking chair. She'd lumber past my…
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176583
|
He was supposed to be a garden gnome. Give pause to the squirrels, keep an eye on the impatiums. We found him at Wegman’s. He looked hopeful and observant.
|
176500
|
There won't be dancing, anymore. That isn't true, that can't be true; but there is no floor to dance on, you know?
|
17651811
|
"We gotta get out of here", you said
|
176594
|
William Shakespeare (a surname that meant "wanker" back in the day, by the way)
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176500
|
You are like gasoline on the fire of my desire–you send me higher and higher into paroxysms of earth-shaking erotic explosions. Remember–the “light” catfood is the kind in the turquoise bag.
|
17652012
|
I say her- it might be him-/
but from a distance I supply the details I prefer.
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