Five evangelists in bathing suits baptize a man while green chilies roast on a Ferris wheel rotisserie

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.

Lying on a high seat in the south study, this is what I see:

For a time he documented his facial expressions.

Dreams / of being a millionaire are replaced by dreams / of being a billionaire

This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.

Start white flour diet.

“Sandy likes the way Bob spanks, when he’s done she gives him thanks."

I never took more than a few pills at a time, just enough for a treat on Friday night.

I recalled the one night stand I'd had with the girl one balmy summer night in Minneapolis. We lay on my bed in the moonlight, and I touched the nipples of her tiny breasts with the thumb and pinkie of one hand.

When she got back to Claire's, she was hammered and she had no idea what time it was, what day, or, frankly, what planet. It was the first time she'd been that drunk in years. The last time she could remember getting even close to that wasted was at a Christmas party right…

French citizens. The friends were all citizens of a half-assed France. The friends were all half-assed citizens of a French stance. Carol was more American, more eggnog, more cream-of-wheat. She represented dull victory.

James Hubert III sat at the bar. It was late. His wife and kids were long in bed and he knew he should be, too. But with the Lovelandtown lift bridge stuck in mid-air, a drink beckoned him. He sat next to Vince DeSantos, a small, stout man, with a bowling

If white t-shirts are only an SPF of 8, she couldn’t even imagine what a white nylon-mesh umbrella on this godforsaken beach might be in terms of protection.

So I've got this head in a jar and I'm not sure who it belongs to.