1703 5 6
|
Just like D-Ray White’s tapping still bounces off the mountains if the right person is listening, Hasil’s hoots and howls are trapped in record wax like a blood-drunk mosquito in amber.
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170332
|
"Pull around," Rachel says. "Pull around him, dammit."
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170332
|
Does life have an expiration date Alice asked herself? One must be careful when trying to deal with a broken person; you might cut yourself on their shattered pieces. Life can be like an arrow penetrating your heart. Hard and painful to pull it out, yet i
|
170321
|
he took me hostage as I came out the door.
Nelson took me hostage and we went back to his parents' house. They were gone crappie fishing so I had to spend the whole weekend alone with him. I didn't have anything lined up for Saturday night, so it wasn'
|
170386
|
|
170344
|
He looks at me again, this time glancing down at my skinny jeans, “And... are you a single mom?” he seems to think he has it right, taking a last look at my aquamarine colored pants and the tapered area around my calves.
|
170332
|
They looked like girl’s jeans. Matt held them against himself in the mirror. Not that girl’s jeans were a mark against them. Usually, girls had better jeans anyway. Matt took two of the biggest pairs out of the big chest in his grandmother’s back closet.
|
170310
|
The young cop says, “Sorry ma’am, you’ll have to wait.” In the strobing red-blue glare he looks like a teenager. Melissa wonders if Tony had looked so young when he started, all those years ago.
|
17031311
|
I tried to talk, but only / whispers slithered out.
|
170321
|
Lake Berryessa, CALIFORNIA It was dusk on the 27th of September when the Stocky Man finished his work and trudged casually back across the…
|
1703168
|
Unapproachable... for all that.
|
170322
|
|
170260
|
The surface temperature of the sun is 9,800 degrees Fahrenheit.
|
170275
|
Biscuits and gravy. I'm off today, I'm lazy.
|
170221
|
The other night while we stood in the kitchen locked in each other's stone silence, he finally said, “You're waiting for something to get you to the other side of grief. But there's no such thing.”
|
170252
|
All is Ready I have bathed in patchouli oil and my hair gleams, lustrous with brushing. I am wearing my gold ankle bracelets with the ruby charms that my love gave me when we had been married one year. My robe is fuschia silk and under it I wear…
|
170221
|
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…
|
170295
|
Burren-grey, the sky through sky lights
is cigarette ash smashed across July.
|
170299
|
At this stage of the game you don't even matter enough to have an asshole.
|
170265
|
52. they hate the word hate
|
170232
|
“Emerald Leaf Borers, Dutch Elm Disease and Gypsy Moths blow through here like the Plagues of Egypt,” said Rafe, sipping from his glass of Parallel 44 wine. “You'd think we'd get more than a few days of good weather for all the parasites we feed.” …
|
170264
|
It’s all a matter of warped mirrors. As in the multi-mirrored passage I stood before as a boy
|
170276
|
Perhaps nothing has never existed;/
perhaps something always has
|
1702127
|
“If they look that good in shorts.” I warned him once, in a candid, humorous moment, “Then they’re probably too young for you to look at.”
|
170210
|
Shh!
What?
The downstairs neighbors. They’re at it again.
What?
It’s the weekend? They’re both home?
Oh.
Remember?
I think so. Sort of.
Shh!
What’s that grunting?
He must be doing the heavy lifting.
Sounds like he’s hurt
|
170212
|
From a window, the young Pole Krzysztof Penderecki saw resistance fighters hanged by Nazis...
|
170294
|
Oh, what jealousy does to us! What love does to the living!
|
170200
|
We all ran out of the house into the communal garden without fences. There stood Von Rotten with a smoking rifle in his hands, and our mascot Digger lying on his side, limp. We all looked at each other in disbelief.
|
170199
|
People usually take fonts for granted.
|
17011614
|
Dinner conversation reminds me of the chatter of birds. Happy talk. Nothing real.
|
