1429 3 2
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Once upon a time he'd thought her as cold a fish as her aristocratic husband
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14291911
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There is no there or where but rather/
trajectories of probability
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142886
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It is the fragrance of decay/
as paint, polymers and dyes/
outgas molecules of themselves
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142820
|
A rock group named Stuck Gas Pedal. Another named Tweezer. A group of young punk-rockers wearing neckerchiefs named Mein Kampfire. But wait, there’s more.
A song called “We Were Being Facetious,” co-written by them all.
Lost Flyswatter. That
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142861
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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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142852
|
You’ve got Wikipedia. Look them up: vagina and penis. What Wikipedia will not tell you, however, is the thousands of years of human anguish, and rapture, wrapped up in those two organs.
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142811
|
The clouds cried more than silver tears,
this time.
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142862
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After sex he would get on his old refurbished upright piano and always play that same song. We came to know it as the After-Sex Song.
It was really quite lovely, and touching. I think it made us all feel better around that building. Yeah, I remember t
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142810
|
Snap!
Dylan’s arms flung forward as the rod bent toward the ocean. “Holy God! What did I snag?
|
142832
|
Rose was the easiest lay in the Fletcher Memorial Home For The Aged.
|
14281413
|
Frenchie hustled waffle irons.
|
142811
|
sometimes we saw it in the sky. we'd stand on invisible stairs trying to reach it. running like frightened geese. we were going to catch up with it. grab onto its string. pull it down.
|
142832
|
What do you want me to tell you about this next full moon cycle that you don't already intuitively seem to have touched upon in your latest bout of almost there dreams? It too will pass? That it is a totally different unfair animal from the repellent one already…
|
142897
|
she had a chipped tooth...
|
142832
|
Where were you the night Katrina destroyed New Orleans? Oh, what a night... A week later, most of the city was still underwater, with hundreds or thousands of folks presumed dead, and tens of thousands…
|
142822
|
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.
|
142897
|
If they are all speaking medicine & I / start speaking French - how / rude am I? Would they understand then / what it is to be entirely left out / of the conversation, unseen?
|
142800
|
Could I really seduce and rob a total stranger -- just on a dare?
|
142841
|
“Behold!” cried the Lord, on a late September morning,
|
142711
|
For example, I never noticed that the moon had eyelashes, not until tonight. You said you couldn’t really see that, not at all. You preferred the fact that the word “lunatic” sounded like an attic on the moon...
|
1427123
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But this ache wouldn't leave me.
|
142731
|
There is a the reason for the theft of people and the melting of gold
|
142732
|
And, if you look real close, you see there’s a bullet hole next to his left ear. A stray one went past his head and straight through Santa’s heart.
|
142766
|
still have the yellow rose that I
did not throw into the grave.
|
1427127
|
We eat, sleep, play Scrabble on our iPads, and go down to breakers at sunrise and sunset. The sunset is spectacular.
|
142721
|
Their tongues were dry, her milk was gone, and the last bit of water in the plastic jug had evaporated.
|
142733
|
I kill because I can’t stop. I kill because I can.
|
1427116
|
The big wigs call it aiding and abetting. I became an left-handed accountant with a tendency to fudge numbers for the damned.
|
142700
|
“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…
|
142700
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This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional and should not be inferred. (Really!)
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