1718 5 2
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Ben considered his options in the taxi to Charles De Gaulle airport.
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1718136
|
She’s changed leaves to emeralds. Worn a shawl of inked birds’ wings.
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171811
|
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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171864
|
I blame the fucking mosquito net.
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171831
|
"On the podium at Pride, he owned that he'd loved taking his children to playgroup as he got to ogle all the breast-feeding mothers. "
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171821
|
She rolls up at school with the word MAYHEM marker-penned across her stomach, wrote so big the first and last letters graze each inner thigh bone. She says it's in honour of some rock star I never knew.
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171831
|
It was cloudy, the way he liked it -- no baking in the sun. People passed occasionally. He sniffed at the joggers, “Health Nuts,” he dubbed them. He hadn’t exercised since his last high school gym class.
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171811
|
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1718106
|
The trees would answer with a creak and a crackle.
Fall was near, a rotten apple.
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171777
|
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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171755
|
You will never know how much it hurts
When someone else touches your face.
But I also know how much you count on others
To pull the slivers out of your heart.
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171763
|
There’s an unending parade of drifters, outlaws and crazies and I always have to watch my back, but, then again, that’s nothing new.
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171700
|
Scott was sure his father was reassured by the sticky stains in his Penthouse; Dad found them when Scott was thirteen. Dad had just one issue of that venerable porno, which Scott defiled with his joy. It was not the Penthouse models…
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171711
|
From above we see the trampled grass circling the house. Trampled grass from where half starved alligators circled the house, hissing and issuing low moans. Half starved alligators deranged by the red skies circled the house in the late August of the last year. Beginning in…
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171778
|
“You should've let him drown,” she once told me. Doesn't she see that I did? I'll let her drown, too.
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1717116
|
Even in the fading light, it looked big enough to disembowel a man.
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171710
|
While the tea was steeping, Ms. Darcy unwrapped the package. The book was lovely. It had nice heavy paper and the print was a good size for reading. The cover was glossy and not too showy, and Ms. Darcy thought it would look just right on her shelf.
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171745
|
. . . a visitor from the preceding century would have been aghast to the point of vomiting to behold the regard with which pandas were now held almost universally.
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171765
|
When I got to Pete's house he was sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette, bruised and dirty, with a smoking pile of rubble behind him where his house used to be. I hadn't heard yet, but his ol' girl left him and blew up the house when she left.
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171744
|
She wakes up with rosemary.
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171762
|
Sometimes one person's shelter is another person's storm.
|
17171711
|
Pholcidae...Daddy Long-Legs
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17171112
|
Tunnel hobos, all hootched up high, think a sign's all about super powers, mind reading, clairvoyance, dig?
|
17172012
|
Our ironies don’t make us happy
|
171632
|
... and the train pulls up and my shadow from yesterday steps off, and I'm standing on one leg balancing just like the weather between winter and spring, I hear a siren and my heart races, I'm about to step aboard when I hear footsteps behind me and two hands cover my eyes…
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171655
|
Now as my fearful hand goes unwittingly up I search the faraway trees for the closest possible answer I know I don't know. The clever waiting beast is looking my way with an intelligent roving eye that says he likes to hit. It doesn't matter. You're worse…
|
171662
|
Two women sat at a small round table near the sidewalk waiting for the same man.
|
171620
|
No matter how you do it, forgetting something doesn’t mean as much once you’ve forgotten.
|
171600
|
Under the darkness of their new city. The heave and moan of structures as they breathed and pulsed. Under the darkness of this city, under the hum of their florescent bulbs and the tumbling rattle of motorcars, the wheeze of their machines and the clank o
|
171645
|
. . . it's all we ever want -- the holding.
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