1419 7 6
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Safe does not ride horses at sunsetSnorkel in MolokaiRaft down a swollen river.It does not steal kisses in a darkened theaterTouch the inside of a thigh under a restaurant table.Safe does not declare war.It chooses dinner every night at sixMass every SundayConfession once a…
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1419 3 2
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Friday night in Little Italy is a big night.
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1419 2 2
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They watch her, scald her skin with hot eyes whose stares run up and down her body like lice.
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1419 3 2
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My pain is a black pearl hidden in a clean shell.
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1419 6 5
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One morning as Georgia Samantha was waking up from her girlish dreams, she found that she had been changed during the night into a stiff-spined book.
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1419 2 2
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Steve lowers himself onto a lounge chair and lets out a long, overdue sigh. Cliff and Jim, the frickin’ and frackin’ of the built-in pool industry, are making a Burger Chef run while the cement sets.
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1419 0 0
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She can still be normal, says Momma, knowing my sister can’t hear, forgetting I can.
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1418 10 7
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Once you descend, the third rail/
hums its invitation
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1418 2 2
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It's one of the most difficult problems of aesthetic philosophy: What do we mean when we say that a song is sad? None of the big names--Aristotle, Kant, Croce–Benedetto, not Jim–come close to answering it.
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1418 3 2
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The were two things and two things only in the town of Comfort, Alabama, that were older than Bella.
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1418 5 3
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She told me in all my past lives I’ve always been a woman, and I was stuck in this relationship and you weren’t coming back, so I should just move on and get over it. I was a little sad, but yeah, I knew I was going to go back to her one more time, just
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1418 7 4
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1418 3 2
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Rose was the easiest lay in the Fletcher Memorial Home For The Aged.
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1418 11 6
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The big wigs call it aiding and abetting. I became an left-handed accountant with a tendency to fudge numbers for the damned.
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1418 0 0
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“I”, fuck it. I, I, I, I. It has always only been about me, this voice of mine, indivisibly me. selfishly and pompously. I shall not dispense with the false pleasantries other writers will offer, those writers that say, “Reader, look here, look at the…
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1418 17 11
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I couldn’t parse the grammar of her body
nor decode the secret softness of her neck.
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1418 0 0
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“Got a big one boy! He's movin' real fast! Don't think he has had time to eat the bait just yet, so we need to play him out. Let the hook set. Don't want to loose him! Get the net ready!”
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1418 6 4
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The rocks were pillows around her shorn head, the crimson stream running from her ears the only sign she had not chosen to lay down on them. Behind us, the rockface stood stoic; below us, the water lapped our feet.She held my hand in hers, giving me succor as I…
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1418 5 4
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The Bird King's advisors and ministers are a range of rusty kitchen utensils. They all observe a respectful silence in his presence.——Contrary to popular belief, the Bird King is not an atheist. His meathook priests do their rounds at twilight.——The…
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1418 6 6
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Then I did the same to you, inhaling your scent which was one thing at your hairline and another at your collarbone.
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1418 5 2
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I remember the first time I met the virgin, Terry (not Mary.) She was in the back seat of an old Plymouth convertible with its top down, jam-packed with raucous high school girls vying to see which one of them could be the most loud and obnoxious, and w
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1418 3 3
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I’m reading an article about honeybees as I wait for the results of my blood work at the doctor’s office.
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1417 6 1
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The city had a way of going silent. Not a nervous silence, but a quiet silence. The sky was dark, yet everything was colored in a yellow hue cast by the arched streetlights. Buildings, parked vehicles, walls, pavement. Cars and scooters and ambulances and police cars…
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1417 2 1
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Up ahead I saw clusters of people standing silently under the trees. They seemed to be just waiting there. More than 100 people lined up in the cold and dark, not moving.
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1417 1 1
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The clouds cried more than silver tears,
this time.
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1417 4 2
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One evening I came home late from work to find my wife drinking white Zinfandel by the fireplace in the living room and reading Wallace Stevens poems out loud to the dog, curled at her feet.
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1417 6 3
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—Have you ever fired a gun?
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1417 2 2
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“How long you been waiting around?” he asks as he pockets my soggy ten-dollar bill.
“For a jump or break in life?” I ask.
He smirks. “I hear that.”
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1417 2 1
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Their tongues were dry, her milk was gone, and the last bit of water in the plastic jug had evaporated.
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1417 8 6
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Before Genesis, digesting the primordial soup.
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