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One More Good Hand

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It's been like that of late. One bad beat after another. I used to hold all the cards, kick some ass, be rolling in it and buying the Crystal at Birdland for all my special ladies. Now I can't get in without a steep cover and my markers are no good in the

The Voyeurism of a Free Faller

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I wrote this piece after I told the originator of the youtube video "Mieders Alpine Coaster" by David Jellis how I felt watching it. I admitted I was a voyeur not a participant, but that his video fascinated me to the point that I needed to write ab

Presage

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I am calling to tell you what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Sweet Sorrow

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He sat at the bar and waited for her. He looked at the noon drinkers with indifferent eyes.

Camp Lake (excerpt)

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In retrospect, we should have been a cult.

Shoe Lace

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Is this a place to show posterity and mortality?

I Don’t Think Her Last Name Was Tucker

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I ran into Tanya at “Pearl's” — maybe it was still called “Big Balls” — over in the Stockyards (Ft. Worth) in '72 and right up front we both admitted to loving honky-tonks and “done me wrong” songs which is why we were there…

My Brother the Painter

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My father bouncing his leg to slow rock music with me on one knee, telling me I should keep a special place in my heart for my teeth, to remember where I lose them, on the playground like he did when he was my age, fighting a friend named Bobby-Joe. Or else I could lose…

Radical Middle-Aged Cake Acceptance

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Cake is not the enemy.

Polo

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“You look strangely familiar,” he said, taking a drink and swinging his leg over the horse, landing on the ground beside me ...

Interview with the Cat

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As part of an online writers ”interview” series, I decided to deviate a little from the norm and do my first interview with our housecat, while I await my first ever conversation with an actual human.

Lovebugs

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Black bugs are falling, fluttering down like big, black snow flakes. Two bugs, almost always, sometimes only one.

Euphony and Fugue

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Each memory of Fall reminds me of the harvest; Surely this is not a thought to turn the thought of dying. Black the turning point, there is a glint at the tip of the wing: Perhaps it rises from its cinders as I wish when I was waning, …

Arcana Magi Zero Arc 2 - c.4

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Marissa sat on her knees placing her hand on Alysia’s head. Her eyes held back her tears as she watched her daughter’s eyes shift back and forth.

Anticipation

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before your full lips touch mine.

Wax Lips Opiates

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The Syringimals were filled to their 60 ml capacity with a gelatinous ocher blood. They fluttered around using sparkly wings stolen from Disney fairies, and attempted language through wax lips that were usually secured with scotch tape.

The Bedbugs

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Cockroaches in bed was the last straw. Alicia was sure she’d swallowed one in the middle of the night . . .

A Day in Dusk.

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And a delicacy in the right regrets.

The Congregation Next Door

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When Carlton Hanks bought the house on the corner of Annunciation and General Pershing, right next to St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, he believed that he’d live in peace.

Fuck Yeah America

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After sportscasters announced the assassination and while the reverberations of the words were still fading people were already shouting

Doppio Macchiato

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Sulawesi-Kalosi brews bitter and watery without proper care.

Dream Life

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I'm walking you / through Pere Lachaise

Arion Resigns

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Mutiny is the last I remember.

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.3 - c.5

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The old man moved on an automatic wheelchair. He stopped just short of Sora. He waited for her to move, but all she did was shed one tear.

The next hour

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I allow myself one hour every two weeks. Devoting 335 of my 336 hours to her and the kids is beyond dutiful.

Pillow

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“I was just dreaming about you,” he said, sleepy-voiced. “What's for breakfast?”

Startle Reflex

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I’m decades in and it hasn’t gone away. In all other respects, I am normal. Life is hard, but I’m not complaining. The thing is, I am in a constant state of falling.

A Hall of Mirrors

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My face in your face The light in your eyes Dancing and twirling Growing, alive A hall of mirrors reflecting me Shards of glass Silver and black Injure and cut Years of bad luck A hall of mirrors protecting me Wrinkles and bags Time's been unkind Disease and…

A Matter of the Heart

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Charlie's recurring fantasy emerged from its hiding spot as he finished his fourth Old Fashioned. He'd be on his back; she'd be astride him. A strong, assertive young woman with her hands planted on his chest and her hair falling forward over her face.

Enough, Trump

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Enough, Trump. We've had it my dear, with your pink ties, your hairs, your swagger, your towers, your money, tempers, walls, bombs, smarts, snarls, pouts and doubts, bigotty bile, and once again, style. We just…