1455 7 2
|
That streetcar named Desire, it don't hardly stop for me no more. Leastwise not while I'm awake, and I don't have to be telling no nosy aides why I make them noises in my sleep.
|
1454107
|
Dreams / of being a millionaire are replaced by dreams / of being a billionaire
|
14541511
|
sentinels in a frost-blackened field
|
145433
|
For me, it was that kind of moment. I got to come back. I had been here before and now, well now, I could come back. I had a chance to do it all again, bigger, better and well, just better. I hoped I could remember all that I learned the first time.
|
145442
|
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.
|
145421
|
Vietnam, Tet, and beaucoup Charlie
|
145486
|
I wrote her a poem.She said, “I hate poetry.” I said, “OK, just read the words then."
|
145420
|
He also had OCD. He had to kick every dog he met. Johnny killed a lot of dogs and was bitten by many others. He was a cruel bastard.
|
145422
|
My Thursday head belonged to a former Miss Brazil named Rita.
|
145495
|
|
1454116
|
I suppose it was inevitable, This crashing of souls, This recognition of possibility to create. If we were younger, We would make a baby, The ultimate act of faith. Now it has to be something else, Nothing to force a track with night feedings, …
|
145410
|
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
|
145431
|
I want to read a story that ends unhappily ever after: one where the bad guy wins and no one gets the girl.
|
145442
|
I got to see me the other day.
|
145455
|
She thinks this is the place she dreamed
|
145432
|
Boil (n.)––1. Pus-filled pustule inflammation of the skin, usually painful. 2. Slang boiled pus, bucket of (n. phrase)“Your asshole brain is a bucket of boiled pus.” (see also pus, SCOTTISH derogatory term for face.
|
145395
|
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.
|
145362
|
INSTRUCTIONS: To all students, please address your index card: "To the Finder of this Balloon." Beneath that, write something that will encourage the finder to email you back. Then tape the index card to your balloon's string.Happy Ballooning! To the Finder…
|
145301
|
She could see him doing these things but she could not hear him.
|
145344
|
|
145341
|
This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.
|
145386
|
It was your present world that seemed more than mad to me. Your polished stiff brown shoes that always squeaked like mice, while the latest rude Bombers bubbled up in their comfortable Dart-board garages like apple pies…
|
145344
|
On a street-lit night in Jeddah.
|
145364
|
After the Tokyo experience, Frank and Michiko decided that when she went on extended tours, Frank would accompany her.
|
145340
|
Then it started extruding tendrils and tying them all into intricate knots.
|
145366
|
With their brightly-colored bits of
found string
woven into the walls of their nests
to teach their baby birds
what the worms of the future
will look like.
Somewhat like the
cave paintings of Lascaux
for early man in France,
when hunti
|
145333
|
She calls me by my name. She says I am her daughter.
|
1453103
|
’m sure they have their/
cleverest working on it, though.
|
145332
|
I’m casing the place; my boyfriend Jimmy is about to bust in and rob the store.
|
145332
|
I am useless. A freak. Different. They all hate me now. All except you, of course. You will never leave me. Never. I'd kill them all if I could. Every single one. But twenty-four, that's a lot even for me. I'm so sick of the cliques; the special groups and hastily strung…
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