He injected her with a sedative to keep her still. He projected himself into her narcotic dream, a small bar with tango playing from a jukebox. They were dancing.

It starts on the Fallopian Speedway

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.

—So much for a cocktail at the tender hour of twilight, he told the empty beer bottle.

The form I completed yesterday filled out several attachments, including one for passive business loss. I did not believe I had incurred business loss, just that I was freelancing part-time.

In and out of morphine dreams, he flies through the unfinished roof of Illinois sky. Below, matchbox-sized farm machines. A silo becomes his father's thermos, the silver-capped tower from which he stole sips at ten, his first secret. Back …

‘A whole damn plane is missing and the only damn clue we have is a 9mm bullet,’ Picasso said to Victor Bravo whom he calls Torv. He’s his partner at the Picasso Investigation Agency. They questioned the guard assigned on the night of the plane

When the dust cleared, she saw him, standing silently, bow and arrow in his left hand. His face was the same as her middle brother's, broad and handsome, his dark eyes slits for light. This was her father. …

Over by the swimming pool singing - Hey hey it’s okay - A line from a song he heard - On the stereo when we were driving in the car - On the way to sign the papers to get - His grandfather released from the hospital

It was entirely my fault, misreading signals. I have a clumsy imagination, mistook your gushing about my boobs as a soul connection. Then you said something about us being lovers in a past life, and I remembered Bobby Bubion from high school, his strategy for…

The streets downtown belong to the people. The people wanted greater transparency. They wanted Mayor Abok to be straight and narrow with them. They wanted their streets to be level and safe to drive their vehicles on. They wanted their streets to be usefu

The church of the self.

She burps in beauty, like a frog Who sits on lily pad so green, Resounding nightly in his bog But to my eyes unseen.

Do you want this, you ask, and hand me a blue silk shirt of hers with small yellow flowers. I'm afraid to say no, in case it makes you remember all over again.

It was an eagle in the waves Those eyes make no mistake Especially from a mile high Blue fish and tuna Too dumb to run