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Alysia saw her reflection in Suzaku’s eyes. There was an empty face looking back.
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It was not my intent to be nosy. I just wanted to be the best neighbor I could be. Having never had anyone close growing up, I wanted to get involved and be a part of my community, such as it was. My only neigbhor was Edna Phelps. She was one…
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“Pull out, pull out, you dimwit!” Cheryl B told Andy. “I told you to pull out before you came, if you ever expect to climb up on top of me again! God, Andy, what’s wrong with you?”
Cheryl had flaming red hair and was what we now call “Plu
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More thoughts on denial...
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The city was spread before me in a pattern of dancing lights, alternately hidden and revealed by the blowing snow. At this distance, it was almost beautiful. Of course, the beauty was an illusion, obvious only at a distance. If I stood here until dawn, I’
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A tanka poem inspired by the CEO's apology and a 10% discount for the 40 million debit card numbers stolen at Target store since Black Friday.
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The coals lose their glow.Sun kisses the back of my neck goodbye.Someone plays Boys of Summer one more time.The cooler tips... The tides go out...
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If I had one of those, she said, I’d never get anything done.
So naughty.
Now my bones get goose-bumps too.
We were playing in my rock group Spotty Behavior,
and she was lead singer in The Young Vaginas,
fronting for a band called The Cherry
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would absolutely love to hear from you singing as careless as a cat choir as you make your fingertip wishes well known to the dishwasher night,want you to be ever so playful with your environments as you please. While (those)…
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When someone asks me what I do, I tell them that I am a fixer. I fix things. There is nothing that cannot be fixed. Will it ever be as good as new? That is subjective, but I will fix it for you.
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And now for a word from
Hitler’s Younger Brother, the Mohel
Well, half brother really
He was always such an embarrassment to the Hitler family
Always climbing the infinite tree of hope
Against the permanent limb of gravity
No gratitude or all
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just want to write a music note
rap my hands all over my throat
jump into the city to stay afloat
gotta build me a damn big boat
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While laying in his hospital bed recovering from a minor heart attack, Professor Martin Hellman reads details of an ancient book he has been given for translation--Biblos Melas, or, the "Black Book." Excerpted from the forthcoming novel "Minion Web."
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114360
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It’s hard to lose. Harder than you think. I guess the ultimate question is: If I had to give up one thing, my dog, or hazelnut gelato, which would it be? I’ll tell you, between those two, it would have been easy to choose. But losing you, that was a who
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I'm not sure if my heart is breaking Or attacking Like an aged lovesick romantic with a faulty beat, I sense a valve needs replacing But only after the main artery has been sutured and made whole By a seasoned and skilled Midwest surgeon in a…
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Those who have lost at game shows meet each week for mutual support. All is well, until they start disappearing in ways related to their ill-fated appearances as contestants.
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Marcel Proust had never been to a big-box store before. He was dazzled by the sheer size and scope of the store and the seeming impassivity of the shoppers. So many products, so many shelves, such strangely intriguing examples of the human condition. The people seemed…
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Because of her I got there early, and like I figured, the train was late.
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114233
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Whoever told us that truth-telling was so wonderful,
when we can plainly see that lying is the way to get results?
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It’ll all make sense when you're sitting on an éclair chaise longue by the morning pool of coffee.
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I glance back over my shoulder as you fumble with the keys. Repeatedly. You swear a little under your breath. You finally locate the proper one and the large door swings open. I hold it as you run over to the alarm keypad. You punch in the code written on a…
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Where does the foam from the lattes go?
I'm not being flip--I want to know.
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As soon as he neared his neighborhood newsstand, handed over the exact change and had The New York Times in his hand, Irving switched from feeling he had no choices, to feeling he had a future.
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Michael shifted impatiently as his mom steadied the gyrocycle above the parking space. A rather blank, empty smile came over her face, and Michael understood. The Proctors were everywhere and where they weren’t, there was always a Neighbor who would be h
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I would read her stories on quiet summer days as we sat along the river, just the two of us stretched out in the tall grass, hidden in the shade of the pine trees lining the banks of the Mullica while a gentle breeze cooled our skin. She liked the way I read to…
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Oh, I cant stop singingThis human heart beatingWhat people say do not interest meAs much what goes on in their heartsThe heart is were they are really atNo matter what they saySome call it the IdSome call it the subconscious Some call in the willSome call it the…
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