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With small and fleshy hands/
I scratch at enigmatic stones,
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Identification both ways was BooBoo, case sensitive.
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Justin comes out of the bathroom, finally erect, his hands glistening with K-Y jelly as he chucks the girlie mag into a corner. “I'm ready.” Through the afternoon's soft-filtered light, Kelly watches him climb on top of her and thinks of…
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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?
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It takes almost an hour before I drift to sleep on the bus. When I wake up in Crescent City, I’m surprised. Maybe I was going somewhere else in my sleep. Walking out of the station, it feels like a strange place. Somewhere I’ve never been before. The
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When we were young and small we played in the orchard. Mom made apple pies and fried apples, caramel apples and apple sauce, apple cider. Grandma’s apple butter recipe.
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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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You may think you've tasted envy, but yours was just a sour sip of wine at a civilized wine-tasting. Mine is bottom-shelf, well-brand gin in a biker bar with miss-the-urinal piss stains on the floor.
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I know this: the sky is vast here//
and the sun unforgiving/
to any architecture not the best
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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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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.
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the names / she carried (within)
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in our teens as tough as the cold/we wore denim and flannel with our boots/kicking at whichever wind blew . . .
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Flash’s hackles stood brushlike but he kept his head bowed just enough beneath the bigger dog’s stare to delay the inevitable fight. Flash, Mal thought approvingly, would pick the time and place.
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Afterward, at the motel, I asked her why she liked sex so much, and she said she liked the taste.
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A farm girl raised on fresh eggs and weather forecasts...
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The trash is full. Again. I open the bathroom trash—because the diaper genie is stuffed—but there’s no room. I try the kitchen next. The lid swings open, catapulting carrot shavings onto the floor. I lay the diaper on the counter for later.
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She used her right breast. Lifted it to her chin, aimed at the can, and shoved it down as hard as she could.
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The man next to me on the Shinkansen from Tokyo to Kyoto makes me think of the smokers I’ve kissed.
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She'd still rest her fingers on your back, and her smile still lit the lantern of your soul.
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Some things I reject out right. That is I think I disagree As John put it. You can't play the game. I was never Too good at pretending. It's not that I can walk on water, It's that I don't mind getting my clothes wet to get away From all the…
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"We all knew that the thirty-eight year old mother, with the house on the hill, was having an affair with Darren, a fifteen year old boy, but no one did anything about it. When he was sixteen the parents found out and were furious, but the police were ne
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that guy/ MOSTLY understood / endings
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“Your husband is an asshole, isn’t he?” he asks.
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At five a family relative took my life away from me and no one cared
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An undercover agent posed as an Orthodox Jewish woman in a sting operation that led to the arrest of two rabbis for kidnapping men who refused to grant divorces to their wives.
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I walked to work back then...
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I looked around in my pantry but there were no sentences I felt like cooking.
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