1377 0 0
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Let us talk granola
and improvising
on the margins of
munchies and breakfast.
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137711
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It's been almost two years since I bought it.
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137733
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I will not leave the boat.
The sea has left you.
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137700
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The Black night reached under his shiny silk jacket
And touched the steamy leather of his holster.
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137700
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"You are stuck in the past like the jiggling leather of that wrestler's skin."
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137785
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Ah we just sat on the flat roof of the school and looked out at what was beyond because sometimes there is nothin' to do but sit on a flat roof of a school and look out at what is beyond. Going up there I had told him to be careful with the bag because if he didn't take…
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137700
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From outside it looked abandoned. We lived at the top of a dead end hill. The grass was high and brown, the bricks in the driveway were crooked, caved in. The winter was mild; rotten crabapples, half-frozen, lined the end of the road. This was my house.
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137775
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The old neighborhood, long paling in the shadow of greater Los Angeles, was reduced to two blocks in length and occupied only one side of Figueroa. It was the crumbling bastian of homes whose architecture remembered yet street-car bells clanging, watermelon farms and…
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13771612
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Millicent asked me to stop over at her place for coffee after work because we needed to talk. While pouring, she said she was torn about telling me what her father used to do to her when her mom was not around, but she thought I needed to know how twisted her life was…
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137723
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His smartphone rang. A picture came up of him kissing the blonde.
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137631
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the Tate Modern is like a dungeon!
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137676
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I feel a hand on my leg, and look down to see the little girl touching the horse on my ankle.
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137600
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[WE'LL LET *YOU* BE THE JUDGE!]
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137620
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Ah, the nerve of hot-blooded youth! But the drinking age was only 18 in New Orleans, and we couldn’t resist the call of all that legalized drinking (even though I had fake I.D’s my roommate at Urbana had given me.)
You and I had already consecrated
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137600
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Anyway, without Mr. Little, my life would have been much more difficult after my father was arrested. It was difficult enough as it was. Mr. Little was my personal hero at a time in my life when I had very few people that I could look up to. The funny
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137677
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She rubs her head into mine...
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137621
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The first intimation that something was afoul was when his computer crashed.
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137655
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The virgins smirk / //
We got medieval on their asses
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137601
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One by one, cars filed into the cemetery, pelted by the summer rain under a gun-metal sky. The procession moved slowly, a series of brake lights and headlights, too close together, too far apart; there were sedans and SUVs, mini-vans and pick-up trucks, shiny new vehicles…
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137632
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—Michiko, are you allergic to cats?
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137620
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I've done the math, it didn't count. All the days and years of endless boredom. Of waiting for the next best thing, trapped inside your mind like a lifetime prison sentence. Maybe one day we'll be free, maybe one day we won't feel so oppressed. But when does that day…
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137600
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I watched as you tried to fit yourself quite awkwardly into the small chair. Your eyes fluttered curiously around my house, and I smiled to myself. Your vision landed on my smile, and your face wore an expression of puzzlement."What are you smiling at?" you asked, your…
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137610
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She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, standing in the shade. Why was she there again? The camera hanging around her wrist answered her question. Right, he had called. He had asked if she could take picture for him and his…
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137651
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For those of you who come quickly as darts in black atmosphere, a bittersweet half. I'd like to be forgiven, for these thoughts which racket my insides, a tennis ball of occupancy. This yielding of song: a sip: sorting my business through the shield. No way of bartering the…
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137611
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Précis Summer. Far from beautiful Prague, with its buzzing nightlife and pulsating, noisy crowds; away from the stamp, sway and spin, the odour of bodies, beer and cheap perfume; from the opulence and grandiose beauty, we sleep…
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137600
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A vanishing of something we never got to see. All we've been left with are impressions, imaginings
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137643
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137611
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#ShortStory #writers
are failed #poets...
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137511
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Writers, in general, enjoy the solitude that their profession allows, or more precisely, requires. I consider myself a member of that generalized group, along with a more exclusive club of writers who also tolerate an occasional…
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137501
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I told him that the beehive he had for a brain was overpopulated and that he couldn’t seem to go for one minute without desperately thinking that I was going to leave him when I’m sure I gave him no evidence to that effect at all
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