1604 3 2
|
Harold Smithe awoke that Tuesday morning precisely at 6 am. He did this every day for as long as he could remember. Even on the weekends when his schedule varied. Well, varied slightly. He lay in bed trying to wake up and mulled over the things he needed to accomplish for…
|
160496
|
Everyone loves a story of love
unrequited.
But what about the stories
of the unrequited lovee?
|
16041112
|
Regrets lined behind him like crossties on a railroad track.
|
160464
|
This Tippy’s name was Cheryl — something both of them were so far not committing to paper or saying. Unusual in a salesman, she thought. He is insincere and intends to sell her something.
|
16041112
|
Tunnel hobos, all hootched up high, think a sign's all about super powers, mind reading, clairvoyance, dig?
|
160321
|
Naked Lady? I know that from somewhere. Then he remembered. That's what they called those old 1930's and 40's Conn saxophones, Naked Ladies. How would Smith know that?
|
160311
|
A procession of our somber youth—
stoned and stunned and
broken beyond repair—viewed
the boy carved of putty.
The mortician painted him
stuffed him, presented him
to us, the semi-living.
|
160376
|
The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.
|
160300
|
“A shibboleth is a test—a way to separate da wheat from da chaff that's as old as the Bible, but as new as the latest trend in men's fashions,” Gus says.
|
16031612
|
A little poem about prison
|
160350
|
|
160343
|
Shadows from a star
Never too close
Never too far
|
160363
|
Let’s say you know so little about me. Like whose idea of a joke to name me Hideo for excellent male. Or why I hang out at triangle Park, ogling expatriates or crusty punks.
|
160377
|
The whole thing is broken. It's like an egg. I'm not saying this to get you to say something else in the sunny opposite direction of the tattooed scar upon my painted backyard scene. I don't really care. It's only on me. Not on you. I'm glad as…
|
160311
|
When we started plans for the party, none of us wanted Larry to die, most of all Larry himself.
Actually, when we first started plans for the party, Larry wasn’t dying.
|
160363
|
“I'm thinking about math class,” she said. “The solution to three factorial.”
“Easy,” Leo said.
|
160356
|
It's tough when muscle gets in the way of memory. The way pain is the only thing I can remember about certain things. Fifth grade, that's what I think of. I think of pain. Not just abstract pain, not some we'll get to it later adolescent angst or ennui.…
|
160200
|
Sora collapsed on the wall to Azure’s squeals. She felt her arm lifted up and placed around Azure’s shoulder.
|
160211
|
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!
|
1602175
|
I'm old enough to be her father.
|
160221
|
"For several days thinking they had found a dead man’s boot beside the highway..."
|
160276
|
I pay for 3 Trump Troll Dolls and a package red licorice twizzlers and head back toward the door. Dancing Gnome Girl is there to greet me. I stick a twizzler in the teeth of the donation pail.
|
160211
|
Her mother sighed, fingering the faux-pearls around her neck. Barbara's neck tensed, almost as though the hair on the back of it would stand up: Here comes a platitude . . .
|
160282
|
Mom wraps a bulky-knit scarf around my face and over my mouth. She tightens it into a big knot in back of my collar.
|
160221
|
Ug seemed kinda down in the dumps so, uncharacteristically for a male hominid, I asked him why he looked so glum.
“Ug no find nice girl,” he said, poking a stick in the dirt.
|
160222
|
Not to sound too ridiculous, but Hurt was giving me the hurt, and it felt good.
|
160200
|
Rosea plays a bohemian plainsong for the cosmonauts among us, while her fuzzy apple hips spit glitter, spin strobes: pink shades of pantyline flicker; lip-licked neon hues scrape strings in B sharp, a gloomy clue.
|
160253
|
Twenty-two tornadoes tore through Toronto, spiraling steel and stone to the streets where she stood, texting her best friend.
|
160277
|
He laughs and runs just like the other boys even though he doesn’t have a father now, just his mom.
|
1602104
|
"Nice one, sir," the toilet said.
|
