1382 3 3
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in case something went wrong
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1382 4 0
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A group of us from work are playing cards at a friend's house, so when my brother Jimmy calls, I take my phone into the other room. I already know what it's about, really the only reason he ever calls these days.“Look, I hate to ask,” he begins, the way he…
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This is a very impromptu piece written at two in the morning based on a prompt from Meg Pokrass, who insisted the following words be used: fussyhairybloomingslipperyflutterdamppaleweedsyanking “Maxfuss” was his password, which was appropriate,…
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Happens at a party, this way, past frat boys
perched in branches like idiot hoot owls,
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I signed up for functional
I did not ask for this mixed bag
of broken glass
I have enough to swallow
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Been running so long
You've been running so long
I bet you can't remember
What you're running from
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A nuclear-plant fuel rod engineer, Dimitri Kastrotov, had an axe to grind, so invented an atomic deterrent, to counterbalance mankind. He targeted the filthy rich, greedy sons of a bitch, breeding war, weapons and nukes at a reckless fever pitch After …
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1381 3 1
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When Beez and I were visiting D.C., Beez saw MDW after many years and said, almost so that MDW could hear him if he wished, “His hair looks like Beethoven’s.”
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I’m well aware of the shadow stalking just to my left, her mannish voice flirting with my sensibilities.
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1381 3 0
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Frank cut the tip of his finger off and it sort of shot over to the lettuce bin. The blood pumped out in tiny jets as he covered it with the palm of his other hand and ran to the sink. He pointed it in the sink and turned the water on, he could see…
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—Man, what a tearjerker way to end an interview, said Ben.
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Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my…
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whatever weaknesses you displayed//
as empathetic human fellow traveler,/
your command of English survives you,//
on into the last echoes of the human/
once we’re gone.
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I have never known how gold this time of year, With its palladium arcade, was, of the trees That do not sense the pleasure of their silence; Trees are egalitarian, they do not speak But concourse among themselves, consent to join us At this moment breathing…
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1381 1 0
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they say the sense of smell is the strongest sense connected to memory, but not for me
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He remembers, he touches,
he lifts and kisses the mouth.
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Then, relieved to have cleared the air, they peacefully returned their way of living.
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the view is
breathtaking here.
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1
Al Capone was ruling the backstreets and alleyways of Chicago during Prohibition, and we lived in a little house right next door to a speak-easy. I could peak through our curtains and see right into the bar next door when cops came in to get pai
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1380 0 0
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I. The cowboy of my heart rides high in the saddle. Behind him, the long tail of his speeding palomino, golden — like the hair to the girls I was later to want so desperately — stands straight out from his sweating, muscular haunches. It's time.…
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1380 3 1
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My first time alone with the women in Saudi Arabia...
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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .
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That night, when Nostalgia knocked on my door just before dawn, I had just enough time to catch her coat as she slipped it off and staggered into my apartment.
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A precious heart unfolding the joy within
Carefree play marked footsteps skipping along the way
Such wonders untold awaiting a time of promise
Stilled in the night by a grasping hand
Held down in silence fear feeds off this soul
Marking its to
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His friend Boner, who was more accurately a friend of Milo, who was a friend of his cousin in Dubai and who had, up until this post, seemed to share thoughts in common with him, posted, “Holy Shit, Dude! What’re You On?”
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1379 1 1
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All I ask is that the guy has teeth and an income. More important are the teeth because he can always get a job, but he can’t un-rot the teeth he’s lost to meth.
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He started to concentrate on the music again. It was the album with the crazy picture of Monk on the cover, with a machine gun over his shoulder, a tied-up Gestapo officer and a female resistance fighter standing next to—a cow.
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The bus was almost empty, just me and an Asian girl who'd cleaned up some since I'd seen her. She was wearing a too-big T-shirt that said Freakuccino and writing in a notebook. If she remembered me she didn't say so I didn't either. Everybody sheds some…
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