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Life on TV

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The television volume softens in the shadows.

The Russian on the Train

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I’m not sure if it was the fishnet stockings. Or the pouty red lipstick. Or the tight black leather skirt. Or the mountainous breasts

Portrait of a Sunday Afternoon

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Your grandmother has gotten old, in that way where one day you wake up, and you realize that someone you've been looking at your whole life suddenly looks different. That hands which used to gently place band-aids on scraped knees are…

Anxieties of Absence

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On beach trips with our families, there were bumper cars, jet skis; flash enjoyments, beach-themed distractions.

And the fucking black dress.

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The fucking black dress; the fucking black dress that obfuscates whether or not you're pretty in the face, that obfuscates the sound of your voice, that obfuscates the color of your hair, your eyez, your skin,

Bukowski

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that guy/ MOSTLY understood / endings

On Socks

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There’s a hole in my sock, just large enough that my big toe keeps slipping out.

Three Prayers for Rain

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Still no rain. Eight months, says Hollister. More like nine, says James Earl. We stand in Hollister’s high meadow, what’s left of it.

Chlorine Dream

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death spoke in a swimming pool in late june:

First Love

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What happened then was not entirely innocent or spontaneous. I had been impressed by a scene in Some Came Running by James Jones, where the teenage writer sneaks his girlfriend home and makes love to her on his childhood's bed.

Marry That Girl, Solly

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He had thought of the walk down to Mrs Greensmith’s shop when he and all the men beside him reckoned they’d “had it” that time when II SS Panzer-Division had fought like gods for Hill 212.

The Color

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The artist glides through an art supply store looking for a color within. She can feel the color, but she can't name it. She can almost see it, but it's not that kind of color. It's not like, say, blue or red, a primary color that animates flags or exotic ceremonies.…

Sowers of Nothing (ELECTRIC DELIRIUM 1.2)

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We dig up conscience-tunnels, pluck the play-flower of present choice for fun, run aground, past this dimly lit, though not to be underestimated, stage, and open door upon empty door, to nothing, for the lights are a pulse flickering in the perceptual per

Family Circle

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the far-flung Turner boys and their broods descended upon Pemberton like locusts

The Threshold of Unfinished Business

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Uh oh, the dry cleaning ticket

Why We're Going to Eat Uncle John's Suicide for Breakfast, Tomorrow

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[Party!]

Salt Water

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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.

Mind Your Inspiration

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Be careful when you choose your muse, for she may be a siren.

A Tale Of Three Titties

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

Adios

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After seventeen years of struggling to wake up early in the morning, I had managed to wake up on my own. Actually, I think it was because I was unable to sleep that I was up so early. I had laid on the bed all night, staring at the dark ceiling, taking in every…

Occasional cloud

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And she tried to laugh, to justify her half evasion, to dismiss the memory of their vitriolic breakfast conversation.

Modest Proposal

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It could be fun,/ with the guns, explosives, Molotov/ Cocktails and all,

The Agreement

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Our Irish tradition is rich in Yeats, drenched in Bushmills.

THE CAPTION CHANGES BUT THE PICTURE STAYS THE SAME

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When he leaves herThe weather is glorious of courseUnblinking sunshineHe walks awayShe touches the edge of his sleeve I touch his sleeveBlack jacket flung over his shoulder Black jacket over his…

The Clarity of Loss

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This year I did not markthe day of your death.I let it slip by in an afternoonfilled with music you'll never hear,words you'll never read,a chorus of voices raised in protestat the unwavering passage of time.I don't need a numberto know that you are gone.Since you went…

Good morning, Mr. Mourning!

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Now, I am getting angry! Now you want me depressed too! GET OUT! GET OUT!

Out of the Question

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"Then why? Why?" she choked. "Why are you so... so mean to me?"

Cow

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“He looks funny again,” the twins would say. “Cow looks funny, Mummy.”

Vienna

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

Bring a Book

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It would be great if next door to every restaurant, there was a 24 hour dental surgery. Then you could sneak in and grab a few magazines to read if you’re unfortunate enough to be dining alone.