1540 0 0
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The Kid, The Executive, The Doctor, and The Actress.
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1540 3 2
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I could smell a bold combination of cheap perfume, stale smoke, and sex excreting from her weathered pores. The bus engine hummed as we climbed a winding road. She scratched her neck and tried to finger comb through her knotted hair. I caught a glimpse of
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1540 1 1
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Route 346 is the way Pop drove to Troy long after everybody else took Route 2. Today Charlie and I drive in the opposite direction. Back then, Pop drove us to Troy on Route 346 on Sunday afternoons with the car windows…
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1540 8 5
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When Frank entered Michiko’s apartment, Michiko was not there.
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1540 5 1
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Juan’s tío, Richard, who works for the city and is the kind of Mexican who thinks he isn’t, took care of the lawyer. Juan checks himself in the mirror, didn’t know how good dressing fancy would feel.
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1540 0 0
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Part of me feels like a wounded animal surrounded by hungry cougars. Another part of me feels like being mauled by a cougar might not be that bad. A third part of me wishes he could punch the second part of me in the face.
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1540 8 6
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If I seemed disappointed after our conversation,
then, for the record, that was never the case.
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1539 6 5
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faith in gravity/permitted them to extol/the guillotine's blade.
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1539 1 0
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“We’re never going to get off the treadmill of paying ever-higher taxes," I said, "unless we get some creative suggestions from a professional bisexual tax advisor.”
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1539 5 2
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“I would like to keep my head, at least for a few more nights. Didn't you say we were gonna have sex one of these days? Isn't that in the manual?”
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1539 10 6
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People Who Go to Poems for Truth
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1539 3 3
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When John wakes up, the first thing he does is run a bath, because his shower is broken, and while the bath is running he gets his breakfast ready.
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1539 0 0
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Caster had always imagined the Consensus as a big room, as big as the world, filled with white space and people with quantum wings, flitting about, creating information. There were tinted bubbles for people to share for privacy, and the lights never went
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1539 3 3
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I contemplate the words that did not make it; the lost ones. The words deprived of their moment in the sun. These words. These words that are not part of the story.
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1539 4 1
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Just beyond the tree, beyond the fence, close to the grey clouds that hung almost to the earth, a boy sat on another tree's stump. Beneath his crossed legs that he moved up and down rhythmically, under his bright red, Superman shorts, inscribed in the stump, a symbol which…
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1539 3 2
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“Life is on life’s terms,” she told me once. Her arm, wrapped in clear cellophane, was freshly adorned with a green-pigmented sand-dollar: a living shell.
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1539 7 7
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1539 3 0
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Blend the dog a drink and sit down beside him and draw straws for regrets.
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1539 10 5
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addict for validation and cat tongues
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1538 15 11
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The universe will fuck you over in the end./
That’s what it does, what it’s good at—
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1538 4 1
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At a rest stop in Montpelier, they stopped to buy Cokes and gum from the vending machines. He was showing off, trying to jimmy one of the locks with a safety pin but it stayed locked and she laughed at him and he said goddamn, look at all a them Milkyways
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1538 4 2
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True facts about Redbeard the communist pirate.
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1538 4 1
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Byron's achievement, certainly quite remarkable, is to have raised the drunken monologue to a literary form.
Edmund Wilson
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1538 1 0
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Row,
Caps of white,
A salted escape
beneath reflected light.
Brother, remember those old lies?
I’m off to sea to make those things right,
now.
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1538 7 7
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To tell the truth, I can’t complain. Look, lots of people have it tough. I don’t have it tough...
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1538 8 4
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It’s just that—well, I don’t know how to put this—
With a Dadaist poet a non-affair is the height of erotic bliss.
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1538 4 3
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. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.
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1538 7 7
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I wondered if Mr. Slane even knew/
how many dogs he owned
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1538 4 3
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Here’s the keys to the house
Here’s the keys to the car
I’m going out and I don’t care
I’m going out to buy a cigar
Don’t bother locking up after I leave
I’m not coming back anymore
I’m going to drink whiskey out of a jar
Go out and buy
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1538 5 3
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Buyers of freelance writing have a well-deserved reputation for responding slowly, thereby increasing your pleasure in much the same way that the Pointer Sisters longed for a slow hand.
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