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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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feet that would run until their soles were pages of Gideon’s Bibles, worn too thin to touch
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1553 3 1
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The man had decided that this was going to be his last day. He’d find out one final thing and he’d be done. He had spent the last few years of his life unwinding things that had been wound and untying knots that had been tied.
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faith in gravity/permitted them to extol/the guillotine's blade.
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The man wore a bowler hat and stood on an open patch of grass, with a pyramid-shaped stack of baseballs at his feet.
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The number is very large/
and perpetually changes//
as old stars fade, explode,/
or collapse into something not stars
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The restaurant was not open yet, but Ayane stood behind the counter preparing tea for everyone. She was quiet as she saw Hideki and Mayumi alone in a booth talking.
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Tater didn't like three things in this life: his daddy, his momma, and the stupid dog that chewed his jizzed on socks.
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1552 2 0
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Some people hate Waikiki. Not me. Most hotels had lounges with live music, either inside or around the pool. Evenings were spent bar hopping up and down the strip, Kalakaua Avenue. The bars stayed open till 4:00 a.m. It was safe to walk…
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On the other pillow is a ladybird which escaped from a dream. It reminds me of when I was a tiny red polka dot. And then bigger, and other colours. And then… I stare at the ceiling, searching its soul for little things. The ladybird touches my arm, whispers…
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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…
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When we arriveand are met by strange friendsstrange like the fog on the redreed mudflatsthat span the low tide around Incheon -When we arrivecarrying so much we will not needlike the bus they hire to take us through the darksix people to fill so much more space - When…
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Looming ahead was another polite suburban party at which, after a couple of pops, I'd say something that embarrasses my wife in front of her girlfriends. Or so she claims.
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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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That won’t kill me, will it? I asked. Maybe, the doctor said.
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I made her a mix tape. It was revolutionary. Twenty-two songs she had to hear at least once in her life. I even drew some trippy drug-like designs on the label of the CD to make it seem more real. It was the ocean and the sun and every body of land balled up…
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We pull up chairs. I breathe in her Bath and Body Works vanilla, read her paper slowly and aloud because the ears catch what the eyes miss. Her sentences are awkward, stilted.
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I fondly remember those warm, weekend evenings at twilight on the beach. After the frolic of the waves flattened, sending the surfers home and, after the last bait was spent, sending the surfcasters away, I'd set up the little, foldable, 3‘x4', rectangular stage I always…
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I’m from the Land of Sky Blue Waters. I grew up in a lake. I think I’m half fish.
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Rose lifted her 55-year-old legs until they were perpendicular to the bed and admired how girlish they looked. It gave her the sexy legs of a 20-year old, if the morning light was right and she squinted a bit.
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You want to get laid talking socks
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Jesus is for sale. But he’s heavy.
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On our back porch, the tiki torches are lit and so am I.
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I see ghosts. They accost me in their sleep. Hundreds of them. When I wake up (after a long night of half-waking), I think, What wold ghosts want with me? I have nothing for them. But at night they're there again, watching, tapping my shoulder as I lay awake. Sometime…
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Tomorrow, they'd bury their daughter . . . and still, so many questions. Why would a beautiful fourteen-year-old choose for herself such a horrible, painful death? In life, she appeared the antithesis of suicidal ideation: excellent grades, well-liked in school and…
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God had decided to resign. Not even two weeks notice. He just resigned. Point blank.
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Funny, funny stuff. She'll be here all week--be sure and tip your speech therapist!
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