1744 41 28
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She pulled into the doorway. Uncertain where to spend the night. Certain there'd once been a place with food. Here. This place. She remembered. Curtains. Small tables. Coffee cups thick-handled and sturdy. Crockery.
Some words came back.
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174498
|
“It’s lost. Lost and gone. Forever. My love for you. I’m sorry.”
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174410
|
“Now I see clearly my whole life is pointed in one direction — there never has been any choice for me (Travis Bickle, "Taxi Driver").
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174422
|
He was just walking along, making sure that no white, Hispanic, Native American or Asian people were doing anything illegal when he noticed the young black man walking down the street.
He hadn't meant to.
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174464
|
A sunrise over the dark Atlantic, on a perfect beach day, tasting of salt and warmth and powdered sugar; of last, desperate kisses of youth, still shivering from delicious night, is beautiful.A sunrise over the dark ruins of Syria, on hot dusted stones, tasting of lament…
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174498
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Where the General is, the world is data and patterns and signatures.
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174442
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when down the street/ a female cat/ yowls with the force/ of a red light blazing/ in an alley.
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174485
|
On the river he rows a dory. It is filling with water. There is a rectangular hole in the bottom.
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174410
|
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
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174422
|
“You own your own burial plot, but you don't own your home,” he'd said, and I couldn't help but agree.
|
174421
|
Bake sweet rolls and make love to your new wife, fall asleep for three years and grow a beard.
|
174496
|
He brought me kisses from New York.
|
17441911
|
Today the isobars are far apart.
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17441711
|
Pholcidae...Daddy Long-Legs
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174421
|
She pictured the President leaving the hospital a few days later, hobbling on a cane. Jackie beside him, Caroline and John-John dashing from a waiting limousine. He couldn’t die. She’d looked into his eyes. John F. Kennedy spoke to her.
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174363
|
The camera moves slowly around the interior of a building inhabited by books.
|
174344
|
Moore doubted, perhaps, that readers could sympathize with a man who had killed someone for a cause or a girlfriend who forgave him. Perhaps she felt that maiming is (not) worse than murder. Perhaps she decided that the story should be about that.
|
1743121
|
. . . hot sand and quiet ocean only.
|
174321
|
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'
|
174372
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She had liked her new husband's sternness, and the way he ran his hands over her body, noticed every inch of it, made her feel not invisible.He traveled during the week, wore cufflinks, worked out in hotel gyms. On the weekends, they redecorated her house and tried to…
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174362
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Her fingers scampered over the table, practicing the deft stitching of the basilar artery.
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174311
|
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…
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1743158
|
Grasping for control over
social consciousness Because cigarettes are too deadly
and so is anorexia
|
174321
|
Blood had soaked through his Converse All-Stars, and into his cotton sox. It was the smell of metal, of iron more specifically, that nudged his mind out from the fog of shock and denial, closer to the reality of his circumstances.
|
174310
|
But that night we were happy, looking all around at the bright lights of the several cities that we could see.
|
1743117
|
Lucky for mama, he doesn't like for his women to work.
|
174277
|
As spilled on a sandy Corona del Mar beach/both in moonlight and starlight so lovely/and strangely sad as if receding still
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174231
|
Writer Marion Winik has ridiculously bad taste in men. She's an intelligent woman and a terrific writer, a good mom with a good heart, and ALL of her romantic relationships are train wrecks.Winik recounts her quest for love at age 50 in her new book, “Highs In The Low…
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174211
|
Once upon a time in the days of old
There lived a poor tailor who- I am told-
Did brag that his daughter
Spun straw into gold!
|
1742116
|
I might wish I was anything
including some dust on the shelf
where maybe I might blow away
unseen like the coming of rust
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