1504 8 5
|
there's looks between the covers and shotguns in the drawer
|
150400
|
Emi watched the Perez sisters show each other support. It brought back memories of Mayumi giving her support, even fighting for her.
|
150455
|
|
150496
|
And soon you'll be walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
|
150300
|
There were security guards running all over the place. Campus police cars, with lights flashing, at various locations in the distance. Sora gripped her books tight as they saw their dormitory building ahead.
|
150343
|
Last night, in a tavern called Wits End, we dropped quarters into a console, sized and shaped like an old TV.
|
150355
|
"Give it to me I said, you dip! Fork it over!"
|
150388
|
We're killing off the elephants. We're killing off the tigers. We're killing off monarch butterflies. We're wrecking the coral reefs. Big sad gorillas don't feel at home in their own homes. And all instead of learning to live in some…
|
1503158
|
i hear the boom boom boom
in the room room room
|
150321
|
|
150354
|
I know this much: right now I’m over a thousand miles from my brother. I’ve been watching the odometers, adding it all up.
|
1503109
|
We’re lucky it/
was chunky spew,
|
150333
|
he wanders the house/ crying for the hairless tomcat/ (gone for the night/ on an overnight job).
|
150374
|
My work is not that sexy and glamorous kind of time travel that you see in the movies with Deloreans and phone booths.
|
150351
|
I lift up my sweatshirt and reach with a full fist into my belly button. This is where the fat comes out.
|
150354
|
My wife says you can tell the crooks from the cops from the cowboys at the taco truck across the street.
|
150393
|
This is me pitching a recently completed screenplay to a film producer at lunch the other day:
|
150344
|
I was so used to the silence of late summer afternoons, when I could roll my hoop through the empty, sunlit piazzas without meeting another shadow, that at first I mistook the footsteps for the beat of a metronome spilling through an open window.
|
150374
|
The world is slick as alabaster, taking the guesswork out of the rain. Junction Road moves like thick grease under the tires of my '89 Skyhawk. The old car's making a clicking noise somewhere underneath the high-beam switch and the damn…
|
1503105
|
It's been twenty years since you left. I should call it a day.Even the Obeah woman said as much. But I don't listen. Instead I sit with old and proper ethnic widows in black, waiting for your return. One of them translates my story for the…
|
1503108
|
“I have a theory,” she said on their first date, which was at an Indian restaurant where the music was a lovely singsong but the chef seemed enraged as he clapped a ball of dough between his hands, then threw it into the flames. And her date, whom she…
|
150300
|
This had the unintentional effect of me picturing her in a tight white top and tiny orange shorts. From up close like this, I had clearly misjudged her earlier. She could definitely be more than the quirky best friend in my movie.
|
150333
|
The hotel sits on the highest point in Shimla: a place of cedar-scented air, an aggressive monkey population, and summer houses left by the British Raj.
|
150363
|
". . those incandescent secrets she would
pepper in. The sister who ran away."
|
150297
|
We didn't know him from Adam...
|
1502119
|
All else is unmoved/
and relentless in its indifference.
|
150211
|
Methuselah. That’s what they call him, the regulars that ride my train. Other things too, but Methuselah is the one that sticks in my mind. It seems to fit. It’s not as cruel.
|
150285
|
Stroman reached over and stroked the perimeter of Rouge's chin with his thumb. 'I am just joking. You are my soul-mate, you know that?'
|
150264
|
We played synthetic derivative punk. We used Donald Trump tweets as lyrics.
|
150245
|
Art books, paintings, antique chairs, marble tables, full length gold gilded mirrors, oriental rugs, tapestries, a Louis XVI painted French armoire, a wrought iron Deco coffee table, flat ware, silver flasks, mantel lamps, iron gates, a silk settee, theat
|
