1552 15 10
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The Plaza had a chess-board floor, green wood booths, and the lights stayed up. I might be combining a memory of Fitzie's in Binghamton. The Plaza felt like a preppy soda fountain with beer.
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1551 6 3
|
It was that pink lipstick found
on the end of that brown filter
yeah, think it was an Old Gold
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1551 11 6
|
Today’s new YouTube kitten;
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1551 3 2
|
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1551 8 4
|
I rifled through the bedside table until I found dirty magazines
|
1551 4 0
|
They keep
shining
against each
other
|
1551 12 10
|
"S- E- X -- ever heard of it?"
|
1551 9 8
|
The Chicago to Denver fast train clocked 90 MPH plus, but braked hard on the long curve through town, sparks ringing flanged wheels.
|
1551 5 5
|
How the hell do these 1/8 inch long red-eyed flying insects wind up in my kitchen anyway?
|
1551 0 0
|
Yes, my old uncle liked roses. Grew them. He had a way of smelling a rose—after he smelled a rose, you are surprised the rose is still there.
|
1551 3 2
|
“There is no future in art,
you will not change lives
with flowery words.
Please don’t rock the boat”
|
1551 12 8
|
The slicing is easy. Blade barely touching skin, flesh separating into two clean parts. A breath, and blood fills in the space, an old friend materializing in the shadows. I am redolent with hope and desire. I can't stop thinking of how he excised himself from my…
|
1551 10 5
|
Chuck woke when he smelled cooking.
|
1550 5 5
|
He’s more than a little pissed at all this eternal boulder rolling.
|
1550 11 9
|
In the summer when it's light out later it's my nature to linger a couple of hours in the park after work, just standing around watching the Downtown Divas working the corner, offering themselves to each male driver who stops for the light and I always joke with them about…
|
1550 7 6
|
men sitting on stoops
women earning the rent
by working as servants
in the rich folks yard
|
1550 1 1
|
Five years ago—or maybe ten—I clipped an article containing a quote that has haunted and inspired me ever since, and tacked it to my wall. Describing the success of diplomats from nearly ninety nations to convene in Oslo, Norway, and agree on the wording
|
1550 3 1
|
This was looking down from what we know as The Grassy Knoll.
|
1550 2 2
|
Sitting on the couch when we got cable television, on that first day. Pressing buttons that sounded like the slap that your attention span would take as you made your way through the twenty, thirty, forty channels. As you grew older, the amount of channel
|
1550 7 6
|
Steven was a hollow tree of a man — outwardly normal for a tired fortysomething, but empty inside. He lived alone in an old farmhouse that reeked of decomposition and Lysol, the previous tenant having left a dozen skinned raccoon carcasses in the attic.
|
1550 7 5
|
On a trail, Richard and I came upon a saguaro cactus that had dried in the shape of a human figure. Its arms were lifted and its back was stooped. I said, “It looks like my mother.”
|
1550 2 1
|
“There’s enough food to last here a week.” Ferdinand assured, as a dingy wooden cabin came into view. They were on foot now. He’d insisted on forcing the car into a ravine, using a heavy rock and the last of the gasoline to drive it into a heap of rusted
|
1550 7 4
|
It starts on the Fallopian Speedway
|
1549 2 2
|
I am a human resource, batteries not included
|
1549 9 8
|
Just beyond the corkscrew slide / the President of Egypt was bleeding to death
|
1549 21 6
|
She hasn't called me in days. Before calling her, I search my memory for something romantic to say. Shakespeare's Sonnet 73 says exactly what I'm thinking. But she doesn't need to hear it. She already knows, as all human efforts come to an end, my core energies are tapering…
|
1549 3 2
|
It's a tunnel, you know, like the neck of a bottle, the tunnel the hair comes up, it's coming out soon, I'm an adolescent now, dammit.
|
1549 0 0
|
“They’re not gonna shoot him?” Rick cried.
|
1549 3 3
|
I didn’t see the little boy run up to Bandit until it was too late. The kid was about four and was excited to see such a big dog. He reached out his hand to pat Bandit’s head and Bandit lunged at him. The leash was wrenched from my hand, leaving a bloody
|
1549 18 9
|
The Street singer gathers up his coins
and counts to a hundred before
The last string stops vibrating
|