1478 1 1
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Everybody knew the McDonald’s at the Waterfront was selling theraflu stamp bags, and I guess I’d heard how bad it was for you—they’d had reports of dumbasses ODing on channel 2, 4, and 11—but it was a lot stronger than regular heroin and a lot cheaper...
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14782311
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We deny one another, here,/
as long as it’s plausible.
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1478108
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“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…
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147865
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"People are stupid. They've always been stupid. But these days...." His voice trailed off. "Dumb and dumber, huh?" the Boss asked. Peter nodded.
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1478189
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The Street singer gathers up his coins
and counts to a hundred before
The last string stops vibrating
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147854
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147855
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I think the Air Force Colonel must have known, from the flushed looks on our faces, that I had just fucked his daughter in a roadside patch of ragweed on the way to their house somewhere outside Danville. I remember looking back and forth between him and
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147825
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There is a whisper in the shadows
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147822
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1The Bird King's eggs are subatomic particles created serendipitously by a sneeze in a quantum physicist's dream.Occupying a space between existence and nothingness, reason and madness, broccoli and…
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1477148
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The alphabets will disappear.
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147711
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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.
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147776
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"It was John-Darren who once told me that he felt sorry for women."
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147761
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I'm not dying. What is it called if you think you might have Hypochondria but you really don't? I'm worried that's what I have. Is it cold in here? Or is it me, dying?
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1477168
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Fear the air and fear the fire./
Fear the land and fear the water./
Creation is out to get you, speck,
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147731
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Alcohol and American writers have always had a connection–about 70 percent of American winners of the Nobel Prize for Literature could be considered heavy drinkers if not more.
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147754
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Lindsey and I are both talking loudly about things we would never talk about in real life, under the impression that this is all somehow instructional for Di. But I think it's really more about us. Di gives us an excuse to talk like two people unjustifiab
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147721
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Grady Quail wondered why God didn't just have another son
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147763
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I feel so glamorous when I talk to Andy on the phone
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1477103
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It ain't the steak, it's the sizzle.
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147763
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". . those incandescent secrets she would
pepper in. The sister who ran away."
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147600
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The summer was announcing itself in thick waves of heat that rolled like a slow motion hurricane inside Mark Keeler's 1971 Mercury Montego. The car baked in a…
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14761610
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He trembled as she splayed open his palm...
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147664
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We played synthetic derivative punk. We used Donald Trump tweets as lyrics.
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147600
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mis-placed
the change
she goes looking for.
her folks
missed another hour...
her worth-while spent wasting
the voice wouldn’t leave the leaves alone.
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147674
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My work is not that sexy and glamorous kind of time travel that you see in the movies with Deloreans and phone booths.
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147673
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In winter The Woods sleeps and the Woodsman comes. He collects the dead wood and makes coal. He nurses the injured animals and prepares the dying. He distributes the snow and regulates the temperature. In his fur hat…
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147611
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I came late to sunrise. The hills were lit / with goats.
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147674
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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…
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1476105
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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…
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147643
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Some guys ride hills up and down,
Then stop to terrorize small towns.
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