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To a tech-savvy millennial, the definition of progress is a hands-free blowjob, and the real number is not how many men you’ve been with but how many minutes you’ve made them wait.
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That afternoon she met me in the lobby of my hotel and we simply smiled at each other in the elevator going up to my room where we sat on the couch for about three hours and told of our lives, of being apart, for so many years, then sensing our time was nearly used up, I…
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I want to read a story that ends unhappily ever after: one where the bad guy wins and no one gets the girl.
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Koo ate the sad, bitter pills just so she wouldn’t have to try and make small talk about La Donna’s deformed, retarded kid.
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Ruth carries always a small bottle of nitroglycerin; and tissues, wads of tissues; two Tums (for calcium, she tells me)...
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Crimson dawn cloaks the starlit night,devoured flesh canvassed fright.Memories flash,as moment’s lapse.Feelings trapped,my love gasped.
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The research facility is located at the bottom of a steep and jagged valley, far away from Heaven, and the anguished eye of The Almighty.
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I never meant to shipwreck you,
I didn't even know I was singing out loud.
I just stood on my rock a little too boldly,
and hummed a tune you wanted to hear.
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Seven black and orange Tortoise-shell kittens nursed in a crate the day Sue returned from rehab, to her parent's Atlanta home.
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I AM A FIRE SWAN!
THIS IS MY QUILT!
YOU ARE MY QUEEN!
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Ben exited the uptown Broadway Local at 103rd and oriented himself.
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nothing suffices as harbor / but a permit to claw at every yawing chasm
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author's note: the borgs in this story have been programmed to think of themselves as IT and in speech refer to selves as YOU* Though IT too had ball and socket joints, the Borg could not sit down to face ITs inquisitor. While IT felt the need to clean up the fallen…
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. . . I wanted to put Tiffany out of her misery and mine and shove her in front of the next large vehicle hurtling down the drive-through lane . . . .
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I’m not / going to change you I /promise
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Mayumi noticed everything moving in real time. Everyone just stared and a woman approached her to see if she was okay. Once Mayumi felt the woman’s hand touch her shoulder, her skin crawled and she ran.
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Zusman snored on the sofa as Motel gathered his belongings in the dark. He moved quietly as had become his custom in the mornings. Initially he had tried not to wake his nephew on his way to work in the…
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A true Rowdies fan begins every conversation about the band with a legend. She would be impressed if he knew the story.
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at all altitudes and at all latitudes /
glaciers in furious melt: / both Greenland and Antarctica headed both /
to be ice-free isles adrift / and with shorter coastlines amidst higher seas.
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Well, yeah but no one that wasn't pointing a gun at me, mostly. I shot at a lot of people but there were only three times when I can honestly say I know that I blew someone away.
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Earlier that morning a tree in the yard had filled with starlings, and on the way home after lunch, the sky held planes that looked like starlings, floating together.
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She was gazing down at her two hands holding the peach seersucker top, but without blinking she saw four hands—ahh, idiot, the mirror! But in the next moment no, it was four hands . . .
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I leapt up to retaliate when the clang of a distant door quieted my retesance. Shit, why am I so popular? I guess it was my turn to be thrown around like the guy in the Hotdog suit on the corner... Don't shoot the "Hotdog" guy... Please, please don't
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The lipstick on your collar walked up the steps and through the front door, without a key. Her smile was hypnotically red and bountiful. The guards standing around didn't dare frisk her for weapons, her lips were weapon enough.
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It was the dead of winter. I took my father's shotgun from his closet. He kept it wrapped up in one of those khaki-colored gun tote bags that had a zipper running the whole length of the gun. It was a 16-gauge, single action shotgun. Anyone could tell wha
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Dear Ray Bradbury, yesterday
was my thirteenth birthday, and I could not stop thinking of the
Mennonite girl in the milkwhite bonnet,
the squint of her eye, the twitch of her anxious finger on the trigger,
sudden holes bloomi
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“I don’t want you to, not even for one minute,” she continued, tone empowered, “Blame yourself. If anything, you’re the only one who has ever given a damn…” she thought more, then added, “…besides Jeremy.”
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On beach trips with our families,
there were bumper cars, jet skis;
flash enjoyments,
beach-themed distractions.
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