It's awfulYou remember everythingYou never forgetEvery insultEvery bruiseEvery scarEvery burnEvery nickEvery blow You never forgetI never forget The pain of memoryYou think you forgetBut you never forgetThe dread of some wholly misfortuneThe pain that left you…

I was right to fear the God of my father He is a monster.

The concrete guy’s truck is parked in front of your house. There’s nothing for him to be doing there except your wife.

I remember so many things … do you remember who I am yet? I attached pictures to jog your memory, including the house on Euclid where I lived. That’s my high school graduation photo. I was wearing my hair short that year, and blonde and natural,

You were there at the beginning almost, when I wanted to write about the dead spider I smashed on my bedroom wall, comparing it to the blue/grey smoke of the blown-off fireworks drifting overhead.

I remember driving to New York City the summer of 1964, just before I met you. That was the very first time I ever smoked a joint. In those days it was happy dope. We got high and everything seemed so funny! Those were the days! I drove into the city

There was a bottleneck ahead. We slowed down single-file, me behind, to wait our turn to pass the doorway of a vacant storefront church. In it, a lone black man sat atop an empty plastic milk crate. Nobody looked at him; they were all slowing down and cro

There was a big pile of dirt in back, where the little Hebrew School bochurs would play King of the Mountain—tugging, tearing, biting, punching, using whatever weapons they could get their tiny hands on to topple whoever scrambled up the mound first.

Watching himself dissolve comes with no sense of meaning. It is simply what it is. He finds that curious.

“Hey, come on and sit down,” Jake motioned to her. It was three in the morning and after way too many gins the last thing Melisa wanted to do on New Year’s Eve was to chat with her ex-boyfriend. In fact if she had known he was goin

“She said I hurt her and my father, the both of them.” Rose patted her round belly, carried high and in front, likely a boy. “I can see that.”

I am always impressed with your intelligence. I love watches. I'm not interested in time. I am well read so talking to myself can be fun.

My backyard was first Grass tickling my bare feet Skipping along the bottoms of my toes. I broke my arm there; I always hurt myself Swinging. The fair was next, grownup kids Having adult fun Eating carnival food and drinking grownup things When no one was looking. …

In September she had been wise.

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