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She heads toward the end of the island and doesn't look back.
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"Oh, God. What do we say?..."
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No one told us that the LZ was already hot and the last Combat Mobile Team had already been shot down and killed. No, no one told us that. So when we came in below about 500 feet I began to hear that "pitit" sound of AK-47 rounds going right through the f
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The blooms are practical/
and cannot see themselves
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and the President didn't call.
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You have more names
Than a Spanish grandee. Your lives
I’m too envious to count.
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Technique, Technique, Technique, Technique, TECHNIQUE!
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Originally published on Six Sentences:He walked out of the hotel lobby into the pre-dawn night and thought about another woman, a pretty Spanish woman, not the woman he'd just kissed in a hotel, and a night he'd spent with her in Portugal, wanting each other desperately,…
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Writing books is like raising children. You do your best, nurture them, discipline them, coddle them, feed them, patch up their injuries, sing to them, try to sell them, but no matter what you do, they are what they are.
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1214 1 0
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I remember a time when Calvin, my husband, was like Winnie the Pooh and I was a jar of fine Provençal honey. No amount of my sweetness could satisfy his craving for me. He would spread me on his toast with butter at breakfast and mix me with peanut butter
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We wait for a server to bring our coconut cream pie. His favorite. I hate coconut.
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You burnish what is left
until it shines and call it
your own.
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Four ships anchor
Far off shore
Chains slip
Beneath the swell.
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I used to compare her to a sunburnthe first of the summerit is always the worst oneexposed skinalmost hot to the touchturning warm and pinkthen raw and redit is a transition that is effortlessbut still you can feel it happeninga lot like loveyou can feel it all around…
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NO IDEAS FROM HERE Tape The knife that tore the envelope tore the apricot. What was it? Water The boxes ranked against the open room. Watch So it was cut the water bright the tub. Say …
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Then there she is, and she makes me love-sad; it's a vehement, absolute, hard love-sad no one else needs to understand, though they can see; it's an emotion so concrete it's felt from the chest, not from a tenuous concept called heart.
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When we crossed the California/Oregon border, I had this
vivid image of sleeping bags filled with human bones. I shook
my head and the scene would not go away. The woods must be
full of dead campers, hitch hikers, run-a-ways, and black
teenage whores
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We can’t see anything except for glimpses of the other’s eyes, hands, mouths when we move.
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“Now, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is a hit of the eighties.”
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Light spreads its way across the sky like a drop of inkon dry cotton sheets:starts at one point and expandsas wind shufflesover bodies, seashoist your sailsand I'll throw this oneoverthe night can have itnowhear the waveshow they seem satisfiedwith their…
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He was lit up faintly.Standing in a room of golden proportions (which is not saying a lot), he was one stood man (which is). The only lamp, a seemingly old neon, hanging short from its chains, shone darkly above none. None but a five-feeted glass plane, upon which glossy…
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mind heart soul will blood sweat tears muscle, and bone,/and then always something else—not more, just else . . .
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Make paddles of his hands
Use his skull to bail
Rig his thigh bones for a mast
And his skin to make a sail
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They sat eating and looking at each other. To Ben, Claudia was certainly a handsome woman and a good bed partner, but he was getting more and more suspicious of her motives.
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He cleaned off the pump with a steel brush. Then he took it out to the pressure washer. Out there was where a lady that looked like a witch used to move around and sit on the fences like a crow. The air was humid, and the men were dressed in heavy blue coveralls.…
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She stood for a moment to think about what happened inside.
She had just killed her husband of twenty three years.
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I spent the evening looking at our old pictures. /
We were never happy. I realize that now.
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The music is too loud in here and it's hurting my ears. I know some of the words to the songs because my older sister listens to the same stuff when she's in her bedroom and is playing her iPod and my dad yells at her to turn that crap down. I like my dad. He calls me…
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It makes me feel like a dirty old man: adorning Celia,
Making an offering of my blue dresses, adorning Celia.
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