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Route 346

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Route 346 is the way Pop drove to Troy long after everybody else took Route 2. Today Charlie and I drive in the opposite direction. Back then, Pop drove us to Troy on Route 346 on Sunday afternoons with the car windows…

Here

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I am reintroducing myself.

Transformations

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Some nights now I sit at my window

Event Particle 12

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The snow buzzes in the Ritalin air beneath Dairy Queen clouds

Morphine

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Until the ivy hides me in

A List of Ways I Have Failed to Express My Love for You

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The gaudy belt buckle I got you, which would have been well-received except that you hate gaudy belt buckles.The custom t-shirt I made for you using iron-on felt letters that generously enhanced the shape of your breasts in a way unfit for public display.The wedding…

End of Daze

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Be it a moment of zen, an epiphany, a vision, or even an ill-tempered chinese food inflicted dream, I've seen what's been shrouded carefully behind you… ahead of me.

you're a james now. here's what to expect:

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fetal position can make a man seem small. harmless. like the child your womb won't carry...

Class

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Class (appears in my book Breaking it Down; no journal publication) When your neighbor James Frehley cusses you out for hanging a block and tackle from the silver maple in your front lawn, begin to pull the engine from your Galaxie anyway, smile and nod…

Monster

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My sister, Bonnie, is busy with the dishes as I enter the kitchen; I toss the mail I was sorting through onto the table and look around for Sophie, my four-year-old daughter. "Bonnie, isn't she ready…

a nice girl is like powder

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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

Time Travel Telephone

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And now, the weather. The Cloud Wranglers have roped three solid clouds this morning, preventing the clouds from raining iron bars onto Human Brain Storage Center #17.

MR. WOODCHUCK

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fat furry marmots who play hide and seek

The Nature of Things

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She’s not coming today. She didn’t come yesterday either.

Mr. Kunitz, Mr. Lowell, Mrs. Craig

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Although I think we can easily work it out because we are not here in the Yale graduate school, and diction is the theme of the story. Diction is a choice in language.

Tostoi's Last Fiction: a footnote to a note

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The note was a lie, multiplied through each member of its potential audience....

Jammin' On Duane Street

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I have cherished the memory of that meal since and have sought out Indian restaurants all over the world. San later told me that the best Indian food was to be had in London

empty

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feeling empty as the bottom of a bottle dry as a bone in death valley alone

Block Island Sound

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So I’ll wait for her to clear all burden from her head and feel the ocean move us. Stand up, walk over to me and kiss me as we glided through open water.

A Tale Of Three Titties

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"Someone should have told her that less is more..."

Once upon a time.

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"Tell me a story."

The Well

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It was by the well on one cold early spring morning

All The Right Steps

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"I didn’t take my mother’s denial of my dream lightly. I wanted it desperately. I cried and pleaded, nagged and begged. On several occasions, I temperamentally got out of the car at a stop sign and walked. Once, my mother said that I was nagging her so mu

Small Snow Haiku.

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A small snow.

Tale from a Möbius Strip

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Francesca is a sweet girl and everything, but her incessant doting on Paolo is best left private . . .

Measures

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Blending in at a rock concert in ballet flats was harder than I thought it would be. The heavy eye makeup and lit cigarette I never brought to my lips put me somewhere between “Trying Too Hard” and “Bless Her Heart.”

My 50th birthday

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A customary phone call from home. What are you doing she says? Playing football I retort – what else. The usual sigh and a faint giggle followed. Much unlike how it backfired back in the late 20’s and we were going to make it the reason to break up! The p

Bonne Fire

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And the voodoo pins pinged as, folding and imploding, she was reduced to a petro-chemical puddle.

let’s play hooky

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There is just something about a thin, white cotton v-neck t-shirt, he thought, as he ran his hand over bleary eyes and dehydrated lips. He wanted her, as always. But he needed just a little more rest. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It…

Tomatoes and Onions on the Bed

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That led to the first aid box on the bed at 3 in the morning, but what about those veggies?