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not all scars are the same

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All I wanted to know was: Am I coming close? You could have given me a clue. How was I to know how deep the scar ran? I always thought scars were superficial, but I was young, and willing – what did I know? What would they have done if they had come

The Sluice

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Everybody knew Billy Miller. He had messy hair and crooked teeth that he hid behind a thin-lipped smile. He and his friend Jimmy Rodgers, who everyone called Cock on account of his red hair that stuck up like a comb, were inseparable. They liked to ste

Dance 'round an Invisible Fire

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“Do we really want to treat her? Is she even really sick, or does she live in a country as real as ours, but one we can never visit?”

The Havisham Complex

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Zinvushka Zokolovskaya and I first met at the local botanical garden.

The King's Snit

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Political doggerel.

Detienen a 271 conductores en un Stop.

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Un consejo esconde un futuro desastre. Es como si Mar le dijese a Desierto "amigo...impresionante. Dejate elevar por la atracción de Luna y verás". Y Desierto le replicase "está bien, y tú Mar, deja que Viento lleve tus olas hasta el nacimiento de los ríos, es brutal". …

Six Ways to Say Butterfly

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He repeated these six words like a prayer. His only confession.

Big Legs

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Her body: normal as a body, a baby’s body: skin and eyes.

Static

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The days cut off by damp chill with every thought a different variety of protection.

THE RICH RIVER

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I must have been six years old at that time, but the events of…

Smiles Etched Into Stone

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A section of the baseball field that curved inward was filled with clear water. Birds were dipping their feet and the tips of their wings in. The sun set them apart enhancing the ice-sharp oblivion in their eyes. I swore I heard them say "Marry me.

Hello Cheryl

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“Hello, Cheryl” the voice on the other end of the phone replied. It was strong but raspy, yet quiet and controlled. The fellow sounded like he had a frog in his throat. “How do you know my name?” she asked. “I know a lot of things about y

Peter's Office

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This is Peter’s office. The room is small, and the wood paneling is painted white. Light colors, Peter has been told, make a room appear larger.

Tour Guide

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“It is not your shoes the Americans complained about!” Roberto yelled, sitting behind his desk, cigar smoke curling around his purple face. “It is your UNDERWEAR!”

Greenback Fly

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It doesn't take a genius to figure how he sank, in the drink, like Jeff Buckley. Like a stone.

IRON Meditations (thoughts while pressing a clean shirt for work)

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An yet we are all inmates...

Hubbled

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The nearsighted world/ puts on its lenses

Hard Times

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None of this is real, he says, and the path slopes down to a house that is possibly haunted. One always looks in such windows, one cannot not look at the predictable detritus of another's failure, a queer satisfaction, a fairy's dust. But no, not real, none of it. And…

after

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when the mirror cracks my eyes won't cry it's a perfectly respectable (romance) between her and i

An Obituary of Comedy: The Life and Times of Munnu Shahbaz Kalandar Khan

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Sir Reginald Lionel Windsworth described the match in Englishmen's Lahore Gazette as, "A plethora of mistakes and complete absence of human sense."

The Hour of the Wolf

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Beneath an opal moon, the open field and wilderness across it look immersed in varying shades of blue. A strong night howler blows across a little girl's face as she walks the field as if in a trance; her whole visage framed against the backdrop of this very act …

The Shadow People

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Two summers later, the ritual began. Carol left her house at midnight, having served her husband and daughter a heavy dinner that left them caged in their sleep. She was like a thief working in reverse: she rose from bed with her husband’s first snore,

Ah, The Drink

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My mother was Irish as Paddy's pig. So all her family. Lovely people they were. Also, seldom seen among the Folk; stone cold sober. My father's family; Bavarian German. Bavaria's the wrong side of the German tracks. Frankfort people laugh at Bavarians as people in…

Grandma (My Mother) At Christmas

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A tanka/haiku poem about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.

Mountains

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Epiphany on a July Morning

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It's that day in July when you feel really bummed because you can't find your favorite white sleeveless shirt that you wear on the hottest days of the yea

Martini

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She drinks a chocolate martini. I fold myself up and slide into her pocket.

Running

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On the way home, “Friendly honk,” he said.

Ring, Ring, Ring

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If this is trouble, please call someone else.

A Figure Left the Building

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A figure left the building.